


Please come

by rromantic



Series: Purr-fect love universe [5]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Beam the cat, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 19:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 35,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17351501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rromantic/pseuds/rromantic
Summary: This series is set in the Purr-fect love universe. You just need to know Brian and Justin got back together, and Justin moved into the loft, in Purr-fect love, which is an AU from 308 onwards. Daphne’s having her 21st, and Justin wants Brian to go with him, but he only has 12 days left to convince Brian before the party on 14 April, starting on 3 April. “Please come” is the daily, ‘real time’ posts of their instant messenger chats, text messages, emails, ficlets, drabbles (etc.) on their daily life until the party.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: roughly S501-504, when Brian buys Babylon. Justin is back from LA, and they live together, and are very much in love.

**3 April, Thursday afternoon**

_4:18 PM user jt17 signed in_

4:18 PM **me:** you were hot last night  
Still can’t sit properly  
Or walk

4:19 PM **BRIAN:** I’m always hot

4:19 PM **me:** I can still feel you  
didn’t know you could push your tongue that deep up my ass

4:19 PM **BRIAN:** already fucked you twice  
your tight little ass wasn’t that tight anymore

4:19 PM **me:** you gave ‘eat my ass’ a whole new meaning

_Last message sent 4:19 PM_

_BRIAN is typing_

4:23 PM **BRIAN:** You tasted good  
made these funny little noises every time I licked your hole  
begged when I was inside  
made me hard just listening to you

_JUSTIN is typing_

4:24 PM **me:** wasn’t begging!  
just  
…  
asking loudly

4:24 PM **BRIAN:** Justin, you were begging  
on your knees  
legs spread and your ass in the air  
_begging_ me to tongue-fuck you  
…  
loudly

4:24 PM **me:** Want you to fuck me  
now  
put your tongue up me again

4:25 PM **BRIAN:** greedy Justin  
it’s my turn  
where are you?

4:25 PM **me:** lunch

4:25 PM **BRIAN:** Daphne?

4:25 PM **me:** my mom

4:26 PM **BRIAN:** you're begging  
(again)  
with your mom next to you?  
that’s hot

4:26 PM **me:** only you’d think that  
(not begging!)  
she ran into a friend, talking outside

4:26 PM **BRIAN:** come over

4:26 PM **me:** and over and over again?

4:26 PM **BRIAN:** promise

_Last message sent 4:26 PM_

_BRIAN is typing_

4:29 PM **BRIAN:** Have to go  
you on your way?

4:29 PM **me:** half an hour

4:29 PM **BRIAN:** Later

_Brian is offline and can't receive messages right now._

_4:30 PM user jt17 signed out_


	2. Chapter 2

**3 April, Thursday afternoon**

“You’re early,” Brian says, turning around with a smug expression when his office door swings shut behind Justin. “Couldn’t wait? I thought you could barely walk.”

“I’m a fast healer.” Justin carelessly tosses his messenger bag in the general direction of the couch and Brian winces. Justin has no respect for money. After all these years under Brian’s tutelage he still says it’s all just ‘stuff,’ things that can easily be replaced. Sure, he has a point, but it doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have at least a _little_ admiration for Brian’s toys. 

“Hey,” he says, meeting Justin halfway across the room and pulling him into his arms. Justin’s mouth is shivering under his and he cups the cold face with concern. “You’re okay?”

“Will be, as soon as I warm up,” Justin whispers in an overly seductive tone and pointedly tosses his gloves after his bag. Brian rolls his eyes. Leather gloves from Armani’s winter collection. He gave them to Justin when he returned from sunny California a while ago. At least he hasn’t lost one, or both… _yet_. He has to agree with the gesture though, Justin is definitely overdressed. Scarf, jacket, sweater, T-shirt… no, shit, the top part of him is just too much work. The jeans he can deal with, it’s only one obstacle, at the most two if Justin is wearing briefs as well. He can’t remember. He didn’t watch Justin get dressed that morning, since he couldn’t do so _and_ keep his hands off him and they were both running late at the time.

Subsequently Justin shut himself in the bathroom and only came out when Brian swore he was dressed. He was busy straightening his tie into perfection when Justin sneaked up from behind and had half of Brian’s shirt unbuttoned before Brian properly registered the ambush.

Brian had to return the favour, it was only fair that he wasn’t the only one parading half-naked through the loft, and one thing led to another. They were both breathless, and _very_ late when Brian scooped Justin up and dumped his ass into the bathroom again. His stern ‘Now, get dressed!’ attempt was a roaring failure, and Justin’s ‘Yes, sir!’ was anything but convincing.

Getting dressed for a second time Brian buttoned his shirt while keeping an eye on the bathroom door to prevent another assault. That plan almost didn’t work either. He could still see Justin’s silhouette move inside, and almost gave in to the temptation to call in sick.

Justin chose that moment to walk back into the room, and wriggled his eyebrows mockingly while he leered at a ruffled-looking Brian. Brian grabbed his tie, made his way with long strides to the counter, silently asked forgiveness for clenching his car keys with an already wrinkled Prada tie, and called to Justin over his shoulder to hurry the fuck up as he stormed out of the loft. 

The lift arrived at the same time Justin did, and Brian all but backed into it. Instead he _just_ kissed the smirk off Justin’s face.

“Like this?” Impatient fingers work at his zipper and Justin tsk-tsks when his jeans slide down to his hips.

“How can getting out of my clothes warm me up? Now there’s just more parts of me freezing.” He grabs Brian’s hands and weaving their fingers together reaches behind his back to push Brian’s palms over his ass cheeks. “Feel that? I’m freezing my ass off.”

Brian groans against Justin’s throat at the cliché, and slips one hand out of Justin’s grasp to shove his jeans down further.

“At least your cock still works,” he says, firmly wrapping his fingers around Justin as he strokes him. Justin gasps and slumps against Brian, the cold forgotten and his knees suddenly too weak to hold himself up.

Not letting go of Justin’s hard-on Brian leads them to the couch, and pushes Justin onto the soft cushions.

“Brian, wait, the couch…” The last part of his sentence is drowned out when Brian fists his hair, and kisses him hard. The pressure around his dick increases, as does the speed of Brian’s strokes and Justin’s hips thrust upwards.

His cry echoes through the office as his orgasm forces a creamy stream from his dick, streaking Justin’s chest and… Justin follows Brian’s eyes and swallows hard. He knows how Brian feels about this couch, and he knows cum stains aren’t that easy to get out, not if the clean-up has to meet Brian’s standards.

He looks back at Brian, blue eyes like saucers and growing even wider when Brian runs his fingertips through the wetness on his abdomen, keeping his eyes fixed on Justin when he lifts his fingers to his mouth and slowly sucks on them, one by one.

“God, Brian…” Justin groans, his cock still half hard and changing status fast. He tries to get up from under Brian, worry lining his face. 

With a hand on his chest Brian prevents him from sitting up, and quickly unzips himself. Taking Justin’s hand in his own he folds them together around his erection, urgency in his strokes as he traps Justin’s fingers between his.

Bravely Justin tries one more time. “What about the couch?”

Brian sweeps his tongue between the warm lips, brushing against the tip of Justin’s, and closes his eyes as the taste and smell and feel of Justin soaks into his senses.

“Who cares? It’s just stuff.”


	3. Chapter 3

**4 April, Friday morning**

_11:08 AM user jt17 signed in_

11:08 AM **me:** you're up for tonight?

11:08 AM **BRIAN:** I'm always up  
that's too easy  
try again

11:08 AM **me:** you're coming with me tonight?

11:09 AM **BRIAN:** a couple of times  
you're pathetic at this  
last chance

11:09 AM **me:** are you going to fuck me tonight?

_Last message sent 11:09 AM_

_Brian is typing_

11:14 AM **BRIAN:** better  
yes

11:14 AM **me:** wrong answer

11:14 AM **BRIAN:** yeah?

_Justin is typing_

11:15 AM **me:** yeah  
tonight your ass is _mine_

11:15 AM **BRIAN:** if I say no?

11:15 AM **me:** you won’t  
not with my cock down your throat

_Last message sent 11:16 AM_

_Brian is typing_

11:22 AM **BRIAN:** you want me to blow you  
me  
blow you

11:22 AM **me:** what time will you be home?

11:22 AM **BRIAN:** 7:30

_Brian is typing_

11:22 AM **BRIAN:** make that 5

11:23 AM **me:** good, then I’ll see you at 4

_Brian is typing_

_11:23 AM user jt17 signed out_

_Justin is offline and can't receive messages right now._


	4. Chapter 4

**5 April, Saturday afternoon**

_1 message received_  
_Sent: 1:07 pm_  
_From: Brian_

Justin is reaching out to turn on the shower when his cell phone vibrates with the first two notes of ‘Only this moment’ - the ring tone he has currently set-up for being alerted when he receives text messages - and he grins. Brian _says_ he hates the song, and it’s a constant point of contention between them (which they both thoroughly enjoy) whenever Justin’s phone beeps. Brian’s standing by his argument that the song is for shit, why the fuck would Justin like to constantly be told _‘…deep down I know our love will die…’_ (referring to love in general, and specifically excluding their what-ever-the-fuck, of course).

Justin disagrees. The line Brian _says_ he dislikes so much is only repeated in the first couple of verses, whereafter it changes to _‘…deep down I know love will survive…’_ What he doesn’t tell Brian, but doesn’t need to either since Brian got it on the first run, is it’s _them_. Every line, every word reads like a summary of their history, all of it, being together, being apart, being fucking scared. Towards the end the song gets more optimistic, more hopeful, and it’s even more _them_ … _‘…Falling in love isn't part of a plan…’_ indeed.

He was just being difficult, driving Justin mad in turn with his ring tone set on ‘Filthy mind.’ _‘…Come inside, welcome to my filthy mind…_ ’ Brian can live with, as long as it is understood if there is going to be any coming inside anything, it will be _him_ up Justin’s ass. In fact, he can more than live with it, and Justin has learned to be very alert whenever the song reverberates through the loft, whether it be from Brian’s cell phone or the CD. 

If there’s ever been something, apart from a naked Justin and all sorts of variations on the theme with him centre stage, that is a guaranteed turn-on for Brian, it is _that_ song. And he just doesn’t fucking get tired of it. At least Justin changes his ring tone every now and again, but Brian hasn’t done anything about his since Justin has returned from LA. Granted, there are times when he thinks the song is hot, and _maybe_ it does make his cock stir, just a bit, but… actually… _Christ_ … he can never tell Brian he is almost as much in love with ‘Filthy mind’ as he is with Brian. _‘…Could you make a suggestion for an act I would enjoy…’_ What is not to _seriously_ like? 

Justin picks up his phone and stares deep in thought at the blue glowing screen, humming the rest of his ring tone to himself while images from a couple of nights ago flash through his mind… The last thing he expected was a dark loft, not even the bedroom lights were on, and ‘Only this moment’ turned high and echoing through the loft. Brian stood in front of the window, which Justin only discovered when he saw the end of his cigarette glow bright red for a second. Justin was completely thrown. Of course Brian listens to music, and they usually settle without much difficulty on something they both like, but Brian has a thick line in the sand about _pathetic_ screeching. Finding him like that, listening to something he knew was special to Justin, and why, was… was… _nerve_ wrecking. He didn’t have a clue what to do, and ended up remaining motionless just inside the loft.

The cigarette glowed again, and Brian stepped forward, pointing the remote control at the stereo and switching it off. He crossed the floor, and stopped in front of a wide-eyed Justin. Neither of them said anything. It was only when Brian’s lips touched his that he melted, almost clinging to Brian while fighting back the tears… Okay, he was clinging, but Brian didn’t seem to mind. Instead he lifted Justin up, deepening their kiss before sweeping him up and carrying him to bed.

That night… Fuck what Brian says, they both know they have long since past the point of just fucking like the two horny and insatiable men they are. It has become much more… they are twining around each other on different levels than before. Brian is allowing Justin to reach out to him… hold him… kiss him… shove him back on the couch and ride him hard and fast… thrust inside him… he _loves_ Justin thrusting inside him…

He isn’t running, and he isn’t shutting down. At least not as often as before LA and the Liberty Ride.

**glad you’re back**

Justin chuckles. He can just see him, Brian, as he left him moments ago. Still in bed, sheets tangled between the long legs, ruffled and sleepy as he types the cryptic message with his beautiful lips curling into a smile like it does these days when he recklessly throws himself over the cliff that is _them_. This is _so_ Brian, only a couple of feet away from Justin on the other side of the see-through wall, but he’d rather use technology than telling Justin to his face he is happy to have him home. Justin doesn’t mind. Whatever the medium, Justin’s been getting the messages, loud and clear. All of them.

Stepping back into the shower he turns the water on, quickly typing his reply with the other hand.

 _1 message received_  
_Sent: 1:10 pm_  
_From: Justin_

**me 2.missed u.a lot.come shower with me?**

_1 message received_  
_Sent: 1:11 pm_  
_From: Brian_

**you’re ASKING or telling?**

_1 message received_  
_Sent: 1:12 pm_  
_From: Justin_

**asking.want to take^L* _ Γ «% ¿ ∞7»Γ__-?**

Brian swears when he sees the corrupted message, knowing exactly what it means. Groaning he gets up. He doesn’t get why Justin is out of bed, and not just out of bed, but _doing_ things. Moving around. _Able_ to move around after a very long night. Not that he is complaining, far from it. Justin was so fucking hot, waiting for him when he got home yesterday afternoon just after 3 pm, and not 5 pm like he IM-ed to Justin, or 4 pm like Justin tried to order him to do. It was Friday after all, he argued with himself, and it had been a difficult week. He definitely deserved to leave early, and it had nothing to do with being hard ever since Justin said he had plans for Brian’s ass that evening.

Justin was annoyingly smug when he walked in so much earlier than expected, and dared to raise his eyebrows in what looked suspiciously like his ‘I win, you lose, you _so_ can’t resist me’ expression. Brian moved fast, gripped the back of the cocky blond head and silencing Justin very effectively by shoving his tongue into his mouth. Justin decided ‘shut the fuck up’ sounded better than the reply he had in mind, and focused on his promised entertainment instead, overruling Brian’s feigned indignation and resistance. From there… it was a very long, _very_ hot night. Hot enough that he didn’t mind listening to Justin chatter, he even added to the conversation himself on more than one occasion.

“Justin, watch the fuck what you’re doing!” Brian strolls into the bathroom, agitated and naked. “That fucking phone is _only_ expensive, not waterproof!”

Justin leaned into the shower to adjust the water, his cell phone forgotten in his hand when Brian moves into his line of sight. He is half hard already by the time he steps back, gesturing with flair for Brian to enter first. 

“Just give me the fucking thing and hand me the soap. Why do you always bring it into the show-“

Justin presses up against him, one hand stroking his dick lazily, the other playing with the short hair at Brian’s nape while he pulls his head down. Their eyes meet for a split second, before Brian is forced to close his. He can’t do two things at once, get sucked into the blue pools, sparkling with sunlight, _and_ try to save himself from being electrocuted. Justin has this way of kissing him, devouring him and barely touching him at the same time. It creates a conduit between them that causes sparks to jump from his veins across his tongue onto Justin’s, making his lips tingle between Justin’s teeth, and leaves all of him craving for more.

“ _That’s_ why.”

“What?” Brian mumbles, reaching behind him for something to put the cell phone down on without having to stop pushing his fingers into Justin. The problem resolves itself with a ‘tink’ and a ‘beep’ when he misses the shelf and the phone tumbles to the floor. Brian yanks Justin into a strong embrace, his now free hand pulling Justin’s cheeks apart to allow his thrusting fingers deeper access. 

“You’re so hot when you get all worked up.” Justin manages with difficulty, trying to concentrate on not purring _‘…could you make a suggestion for an act I would enjoy…’_ while spreading to take more of Brian inside without falling over his own feet, all the while remembering to breathe.

“It’s not going to be so hot if you’ve fucked up that cell phone again.” Brian wraps his arms around Justin’s thighs, lifting him and obediently Justin’s legs follow and curl themselves tight around his waist. The shower is filled with steam and spray and Brian lets Justin down carefully, only to resume his explorations of Justin’s ass before Justin finds his proper footing.

“It will be.” Justin says with confidence. “Then you can punish me and get me a new toy.”

“Since when are you into techno toys?” 

“Since you get into _me_ whenever you give me something I get all excited about.” Justin grips Brian’s balls and squeezes. “ Watching me… your cock hard, like this…“ He closes his fist around Brian’s stiff dick, stroking firm and fast. “… already thinking how you’re going to fuck me onc-“

Brian spins Justin against the glass, kicking his legs apart before he bents his knees briefly to match their height. Sheathing himself with one hand he pushes his fingers hard up Justin’s ass, grunting his pleasure when Justin instantly sinks back, sliding over his fingers with ease. “Alright?” He asks, biting Justin’s shoulder as his fingers dig into his hips. 

Justin knows what that means, and closes his eyes as he nods and braces himself. He really should lose or break things more often.

“Only this moment” by Royksopp  
“Filthy mind” from QaF S1, Amanda Ghost


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Justin mentions a bet they had to see who could last the longest while the other jerks him off, in public. Brian won and they will be going to Ibiza. Soon.

**5 April, Saturday evening**

“But you promised!”

“When? I wouldn’t have done anything so stupid. I am not going, and that’s final.”

“But-“

“But nothing. You know I don’t do birthdays, and I most definitely don’t do birthday _parties._ ”

“Michael-“

“Don’t even fucking think about it. That was different.”

“So is this. It’s Daphne, Brian, she’s your friend too.”

“Fine, we’ll take her out to lunch, but I am not going to waste my evening with a bunch of boring breeders.”

“It’s her twenty-first birthday and she wants you there.”

“We can’t all have what we want.” 

“Is that what this is about? Because you didn’t get what you wanted? You would have, if you didn-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Last night. Don’t you remember?”

“…Of course-“

“You don’t! You _don’t_ remember! Oh my God, I don’t believe it! When I rimmed- …Brian, will you please stop flapping about and come back to bed?” 

“ _You_ bought me this robe. ‘Soft and silky and leasy to take off,’ you said. Oh, yes, and how could I forget. ‘It goes with my eyes.’ Christ, and they say _I’m_ vain.”

“And it is and it does, but I’m not going to try and take it off with you waving your arms like that. Stop being such a drama queen and _come_ … back to bed. One party is not going to kill you.”

“You think? See here… See? Just talking about it has already made my dick soft.”

“That sounds serious, but I can’t really see from here… bit small… You had better come closer and let me take a look. Your memory is clearly not what it used to be, and now you’re not getting it up any more… shit, Brian, sounds like you’re getting _old_.”

“Fuck you! I’m not old, and you know better than anyone I’m _not fucking small_. I will always be-“

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem to spend an evening with _young_ people.”

“I will-“

“As for ‘fuck you,’ I’m still waiting. And ‘ _not small?_ ’ Okay, do you want me to beg you to put that beautiful cock of yours up my ass? …A couple of times? Because I will. _Please?_ Please, Brian, fuck me… hard and-”

“Will you let me the fuck finish?”

“That’s exactly what I’m hoping for… _uuuhhhhhhmmm_ …”

“…”

“…”

“And that was just a little kiss… you’re _hard_ … Don’t look at me like that. I wanted to fuck, you wanted to talk. Now we’re talking-… _aaaahhhhh…. fuck, Justin…_ ”

“About last night and this sudden amnesia of yours.”

“ _Hhhhmmm_ … Nothing wrong with my memo-… _fuckfuckfuck…_ ”

“We were on _this_ bed, you _there_ , me over here. You just finished fucking me for… think it was the fourth time since you got home. Not sure. Doesn’t really matter, point being you were _exhausted_. I had completely worn-“

“Convenient to forget how you struggled and pushed-… _don’t do that_.”

“This?”

“Do you … _aaaaahhhh, fuuck… Justiin_ … you-want-to-do-something-else-with-your-mouth-than… _holy mother-_ … than-talking-shit?”

“You were saying.”

“…how you tried to push me away because you wanted to _sleep_ right before I had your ass for the _fifth_ time? _F-i-f-t-h_ time.”

“Oh, so you do remember?”

“Of fucking course I do. I fucked your brains out for the _fifth_ time in a couple of hours, and we went to sleep. End of story. Until you woke me in the middle of the night when you got your strength back. You were _fucking_ hot.”

“You weren’t too shitty yourself… Don’t change the subject! You fucked me, but we didn’t go to sleep right away. At least, _I_ didn’t. I told you about Daphne’s party, and asked you to go with me. You were much calmer than you are now, maybe you should fuck me first? You seem to listen better when you’re all worn out.“

“Keep going, you’re doing great. I’m going to love watching you try to finger-fuck yourself hard enough to not walk around with that boner anymore.”

“You said ‘no,-’”

“-of course I did-“

“-except if I rim you and make you come with only my tongue up your ass within ten minutes. What is it with you and these bets? Jerking me off in the diner the other day-“

“-which I won-“

“-which I _let_ you won -“

“-proving once again how irresistible I am. You-“

“-which was totally hot. I still want a rematch.”

“Got off on it, did you?”

“You know I did. Nearly came right there.”

“Oh, God, Debbie would have killed us. So you think you can hold out longer next time?” 

“Only if we play for a trip to Italy.”

“We haven’t even been to Ibiza yet.”

“Maybe after you get the Smith&Jones-… Brian! I really, really want you to fuck me, but it’s not going to happen until we’ve sorted this out, so stop changing the subject!”

“I didn’t, you said-“

“Fuck! Okay, fine, _I_ changed the subject, and I’m changing it again. You promised you’ll go to Daphne’s party if I rim-… God, I sound like a parrot!”

“It’s okay, Sunshine, easy… breathe… here, this will help…”

“…”

“…”

“-That did _not_ help me breathe!”

“What was it you said this afternoon? _‘You’re so hot when you get all worked up._ ’ You’re right, it is hot.”

“Jesus, Brian, you’re fucking-“

“-unbelievable, I know.”

“I was going to say _impossible_.”

“Again, not me that changed the subject. You want to try one more time?”

“This is turning you on, isn’t it?”

“You’ve got no idea how much.”

“Oh, I think I do. Who do you think have you been rubbing up against all this time?”

“You mean, you felt my cock all along, how hard I am and you _resisted_? I am extremely disappointed. I thought it’s all about your partner’s needs before your own.”

_“HolyfuckingshitBrianfuck…”_

“Excuse me? I didn’t quite get that. But I’m guessing ‘please fuck me.’ I’m right, aren’t I? Sure I am… you’re almost as hard as I-… _mmmmpppffff…_ ”

“Now listen up. You said you’d go if I rimmed you, which I did, but you fell asleep – don’t worry, it happens to _everyone_ your age - so by default you lose, and we’re going to Daph’s party. Do you understand? Nod if you do.”

“…”

“Keep still! I don’t want to do this all night, as much of a turn on it is to have your mouth between my legs. Well, technically not your mouth, since my hand’s covering it, but it’s still fucking hot-…Ouch... _Shit_ … You _bit_ me!… Fuck, Brian, just nod the fuck already!”

“…”

“That’s better.“

“There is no need for violence, I got your little story the first time.“

“Brian!”

“Okay, fine. I’m not going.”

“What the fuck?”

“I didn’t come when you _tried_ to rim me. I won the bet, I’m not going.”

“You fucking fell asleep! Not even I am that good, to get you to come when you’re fucking comatose!”

“It’s okay… there-there… don’t worry, I’ll make it all better.“

“Uh-huh? I don’t like it you when you look like that.”

“You like me no matter how I look. Not that I’m ever _not_ beautiful-… here’s the deal. I’ll go if you win the rimming-“

“Fine, turn over.”

“Oh, that’s hot. Look… I’ve got goosebumps. I can just tell you want me _so_ much, this is surely going to be the rimming of a lifetime. Now shut the fuck up and let’s move _into_ something much more pleasant. I will go if you win the rimming, _and_ I get to choose three places to fuck you between now and the party.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

“Brian, with you there is _always_ a catch.”

“Such a comforting thought, knowing how highly you think of me. Pass me my palm pilot.”

“I’m still not sure about this.”

“I’d be more than happy to call it all off.”

“…”

“Justin, this is a time-limited offer, you have about 30 seconds left before I’m fucking you so hard you won’t remember anything about any fucking parties.”

“Okay. But I swear, if you-“

“ _Fabulous_. The 14th you said? …and you’re in luck, I’m free that night. D-a-p-h-n-e… At her place, right? How many people again?”

“I don’t know, about 30, I guess. I’m sure you’ll feel right at home. Lots of hot, young college guys…”

“…”

“…”

“College guys?”

“Brian-“

“I am sure you can think of better things to do with your mouth, right about now. And that goes for your hands as well.”


	6. Chapter 6

**6 April, Sunday, almost noon**

“What the fuck’s _wrong_ with you?

“That’s not very sunshiny. Good morning to you too.”

“Nothing fucking good about it. What time is it? And again, what’s _wrong_ with you? Why are you up? …and dressed … _hot_ shirt …and please tell me that’s only your first cup of coffee.”

“Move over.”

“Brian, come on!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do. You’ll feel much better once I’ve taken care of your cock.”

“Don’t. I don’t feel like… _shiiiiiit_ … Fuck, that’s a dirty move, even for you… _aahhhh_ …”

“Now, tell me everything.”

_“…oooohhhh God… yeeeaah…”_

“Why are you so grumpy this morning?“

“The question is why aren’t _yooouuu… Brian, don’t!!”_

“What’s wrong? Stayed up a bit late last night? Got your brains fucked out and weren’t _up_ to it?”

“Fuck… _fuuck you!”_

“That’s not how it works. Even if it did you would clearly not have been man enough for the job. I, on the other hand…”

“… _uuuuhhhhmmm_ … you said you wouldn’t… _doooo_ … that _again!”_

“I said I wouldn’t do it that _night_ again, not never again.”

“Brian, please… I’m not even awake yet. Let me take a shower. Or at least bring me coffee first.”

“Can’t. Sorry.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“…”

_“…fuckingshit…Bria…fuuuuck!”_

“You don’t taste nearly as good after a shower.”

“Please, if you’re going to blow me, just do it.”

“You’re begging?”

“Will it help?”

“It makes you hotter.”

“I don’t see how that will be in my best interest.”

“Which is why I’m deciding for you.” 

“…your shirt… _Christ!_... will wrinkle if... _aahhhh_ … can’t leave it on the floor.”

“It won’t. No, don’t worry, neither will my pants. It’s not going to be on the floor for long. God, you’re so fucking hot like this… so hard...”

“…”

“…”

“I thought you were going to get me off.”

“You know how I feel about charity.”

“So if I let you fuck me now… _aaawww… ouch_ … no, don’t stop!”

“Fuck, you’re still wet… and open… Fuck, Justin, turn the fuck over!”

“Why?”

“Because I want to fuck… _ooohhhh yeeeaahh…”_

“…”

“…”

“Can’t believe you’re fucking me again.”

“… _uuuhhhh_ … Can’t believe... _fuck… so hot_ … you’re still… _aahhhh, yeeees_ … talking.”

“What… _uuuhhh_ … what else am I supposed… _uhh harder_ … to do with my mouth? Your cock is in my ass, you’re not kissing me…”

“…”

“…”

“Better?”

“No. You stopped. Do that again.”

“What, this?”

“Just before that… _yesyesyesyesohfuck… aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!”_

_“…Justin…”_

“…”

“…”

“Brian?”

“Yeah?”

“Have we got anymore clean sheets?”


	7. Chapter 7

**6 April, Sunday, almost noon**

“Come here.”

“No.”

“Why ever the fuck not?”

“I don’t trust you,” Justin grumbles, throwing a glare Brian’s way. His scowl darkens when Brian laughs. He is in an awfully good mood even though he has been summoned to Debbie’s for lunch with the family, on a Sunday, rather than being buried in Justin’s ass, and Justin is very worried.

“And why’s that?”

“Because every time I get dressed you just undress me again.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

Justin groans, exasperated. “You woke me up to go to Debbie’s. But we will never get there at the rate you’re going. Personally, I don’t mind, except I would have gotten up for nothing-“

“-me fucking you is _nothing?_ -“

“-shut up- and I could still have been sleeping.”

Justin watches suspiciously as Brian makes his way over to him, stopping close enough for Justin to be able to see the small lines around his eyes, the ones Brian swears are not there… the just-as-invisible cut beneath his chin where he has nicked himself shaving when Justin tiptoed up on him from behind… naked… hard… his porcelain skin and blue eyes and radiant smile bouncing off the mirror and distracting Brian into injuring himself. He banished Justin from the bathroom after punishing him severely for ruining his otherwise perfect features.

There are the not-so-invisible teeth marks in the corner of Brian’s mouth from when Justin misjudged his own strength and enthusiasm… Brian should know better by now than kissing Justin when he comes. Not that it is a big deal, somehow Brian doesn’t mind _that_ injury being on public display.

Justin pushes Brian’s collar to the side and gently runs his fingers over the red indentations in the hollow of his throat. His skin is warm, as is his thumb tip running over Justin’s lower lip.

_Oh, fuck..._

Giving up and over and in and whatever the fuck else one does when not resisting temptation, Justin slides his arms around Brian’s neck.

Fucking pathetic. He is like an addict, and one with a very sore ass at that. He has always been insatiable, but usually Brian would just about fuck his brains out and he would be moderately normal for a time. These last couple of days however, have been crazy, and it’s not just him. Brian can’t get enough either, even though Justin knows his dick has taken some serious hammering. They’ve not done anything much besides fucking since Friday afternoon, and still, like now… Brian… hard… rubbing up against him... _God!_

If anything them not being able to keep their hands off each other is getting ‘worse.’ The more Brian gropes him, the harder it is for Justin to stay outside of Brian’s reach-range for more than five minutes at a time. It would require at least leaving the loft, and what possible motivation could he have for going out if Brian wasn’t going with?

So much has changed since his first night here, and his first morning, when Brian had nearly as great difficulty in letting Justin get dressed as he is having these days. It didn’t last, and a couple of _almost_ blissful months after that first time’s magic his world went to shit. Subsequently he ran off to New York, where Brian saved and kicked and fucked his ass all in one go, and back in the Pitts arranged with Debbie for him for a place to sleep. Looking back it worked out well in many ways, one of them being he had a bed to _sleep_ in, since it was not something he and Brian did much of when he came over.

Five years later the loft is his home, and Debbie’s is a place to visit, endure being Sunshine for a bit before coming home to _their_ bed and Brian, hard and wet and salivating for Justin’s ass.

Brian lifts Justin’s chin and grins into the dazed expression. His kiss is soft and slow, the type Justin knows predicts _big_ trouble, but not the kind that takes ten minutes. This is Brian making out on the couch, or stroking Justin’s back after they’ve fucked and Justin can’t bring himself to move off Brian’s chest, or causing Justin to wake up at night because of playful fingers tangling in his hair.

Justin’s hands sneak under Brian’s shirt, enjoying the flat abdomen… taut nipples… smooth chest… _very_ smooth chest since Brian’s shirt has been unbuttoned, leaving no hindrance between palms kissing skin. Justin can’t even remember doing it, just that… fuck, he tastes so good… faint traces of soap, and the stronger scent of dried cum and… the third one he’s not sure about. Brian’s left nipple tastes slightly different from his right… more like…

“Fuck! _I’m_ the one undressing _you_ every time?” Brian grabs Justin’s hips firmly, pulling him into a close embrace to curb his tongue’s playground on Brian’s chest, and thereby enabling him to focus. “Justin.” He pushes his fingers deeper inside the back of Justin’s jeans, cupping and stroking and gripping his ass cheeks. “We need to leave.”

“We are... I am... We’re halfway out the door already, see?” Justin murmurs against Brian’s mouth, and walks backwards carefully, gradually dragging Brian with him to the lift.


	8. Chapter 8

**6 April, Sunday, noon, at Debbie’s**

_**Background:** Brian and Justin made a deal, Brian gets his choice of any three public places to fuck Justin, and in turn will go with Justin to Daphne’s party. They are at the first of the three on Brian’s list._

"This is a bad idea." Justin looks from the window, two stories above his head, back to a smirking Brian. "A _very_ bad idea."

"I don't have bad ideas," Brian says smugly.

"You _so_ do! What about-"

"Shhhh!" Brian hisses, glancing over his shoulder. Debbie is not going to be amused if she finds out about this. She might not be too upset about him sneaking them inside Justin’s old room with the single-minded purpose of fucking him, but making _Sunshine_ climb up the side of the house to get there is not going to go down well. Brian has all sorts of plans for all sorts of things to go down, and soon, but they don’t include Debbie at _all_.

"I still don't understand. Shit, this is the last place I thought you would choose. Why here? Fucking me upstairs while everyone else is having lunch is hardly fucking my brains out in public."

"My choices, my reasons." Brian grabs Justin's hand and drags him to the trellis he had scaled so many times while growing up with Michael.

"Shit, Brian, I've never been on a roof before! What if-"

"Just trust me, okay? And do what I tell you to do. Now, lift up- no, put your foot over _there_."

"Fuck! We're not coming back down this way again, are we?"

"For a 1500 SAT-"

"I get it. We can't just appear on the top of the stairs out of thin air after we left so rudely in the middle of lunch. Debbie was pissed."

"She will get over it." Brian watches as Justin carefully selects his next move. His jeans stretches tight over his ass every time he puts a foot up, and Brian's cock leaps excitedly. He has managed to stay on the safe side from being uncomfortably hard for the last two hours, but it has been torture to sit next to Justin and only be able to suck his ear and bite his neck and grab him through his jeans when Debbie wasn't looking. Which she didn’t do nearly often enough. He was waiting for just the right moment to leave, knowing the thin line between taking off too early and thereby earn Debbie's eternal wrath, and staying just long enough to piss her off, but not so much that she won't forgive them within the hour.

"It does have a certain appeal to let them know I was fucking you while they were having dessert. But only _after_ I’ve fucked you." Brian didn't have any difficulty coming up with his three choices of public fuck venues. Justin’s old bedroom is at the top of the list, and he was delighted when Debbie called about lunch. It was the perfect opportunity as everyone would be here, the boys and their boys, the munchers, Debbie and Carl.

Brian heaves a sigh of relief when Justin disappears through the window, and swiftly follows suit. Inside the room he tiptoes to the door, listens for a moment and then closes it soundlessly.

Justin looks on, resignation to his fate written all over his face and Brian chuckles as he pulls him close.

"Told you everything was going to be fine," he whispers, nibbling Justin's lower lip while he impatiently unzips his jeans and pushes them down. Justin's hard-on twitches in his hand and he groans his lust, loosening Justin's hands from around his neck and guiding them to his fly.

Below them they hear laughter, Debbie's voice ringing clear over everyone else's.

Justin makes equally quick work of undressing Brian, his arousal clear from his urgent pumping into Brian's fist. Brian places a hand on Justin’s lower back to steady the thrusting hips. Relishing the feel of Justin's cock rubbing over his palm he closes his fingers tightly and takes over with firm, long strokes. Justin jerks, his teeth locking on Brian's shoulder as he desperately tries to keep his pleasure from being broadcasted to the whole neighbourhood. 

Brian immediately pushes him back and shoves his tongue down Justin’s throat. Justin is seconds away from coming, and he never does so quietly. Kissing him is not going to keep him from crying out completely, but it will hopefully tone him down enough to not alert anyone to their presence. Yet. They have every chance of being discovered, and he doesn't mind if they do get caught, in fact it will be fucking hot and it is partly why _this_ , being _here_ without the family suspecting, is such an incredible turn on, but it's way too early to have someone spoil their fun.

Justin's tenses and Brian strengthens his hold around his waist, pressing their hips together as Justin comes hard over his lower abdomen, surging over his cock and into his pubic hairs.

He smothers Justin's accompanying cry with his mouth, not sure which one of them is trembling more. "God, you are so fucking hot," he says in a husky voice, kissing Justin's eyelids, his temples, the side of his face before letting him suck on his tongue. 

“Think they heard?” Justin manages to draw a shaky breath.

“Michael would have been breaking down the door by now,” Brian grins in Justin’s neck.

“Like that night I blew you in here for the first time. God, he was mad,” Justin whispers back, doodling with his cum on Brian’s stomach. He watches in fascination as the muscles contract under his fingers, and sinking to his knees, smiles wide when they do it again in response to his tongue tracing the gooey streaks around Brian’s navel.

If he’s quick he can still slurp up _this_ little bit over here before it disappears in the crease between Brian’s inner thigh and… on second thought, if he lets a couple of drops get away he will need to search for them. Reaching out with two fingers he redirects the trickling stream of cum and spit to Brian’s balls, just in time to prevent it from trailing all the way down Brian’s leg. Licking Brian clean from his ankles to his cock is just too much work right now.

“He yelled all the way to my house.“ Justin nudges Brian’s hard-on to the side to suck his balls with more ease. Brian is wetter than he expected, the cum in his pubic hair has found its way towards the base of his dick while Justin was concentrating on keeping some of the less important parts (for now) of Brian dry. 

Humming happily he urges Brian’s legs apart and stretches his tongue to reach the sensitive spot deep between his thighs. Musky and hot and sweaty and slightly… He flattens his tongue, lapping at more of Brian in an attempt to identify the deliciously erotic flavour. It’s sugary, with a slightly sour edge that assaults his taste buds and makes his cheeks contract and the inside of his lower lip seek refuse against his teeth… _honey_ … Of course, how could he not have recognized it immediately, _that’s_ what he tasted on Brian’s nipple earlier at the loft.

Seems he didn’t do such a good job at washing away all the sticky gold spots on Brian after he used his body as a canvas the previous night. Maybe he didn’t try too hard either. Fuck, he loves how for a moment it’s almost too sweet, and then the faintly bitter aftertaste mingles with the smell and taste of Brian and becomes a delicacy he can lap up until he has consumes bottles of the stuff. Especially since Brian doesn’t do _cheap_ , and the only honey he allows Justin to drip all over him is directly bottled from hives set amongst fields covered in wild flowers. It’s thick, still containing small bits of the honey combs, and when mixed with his cum forms a thin layer of crust. 

_Oh, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…_

He shivers and presses harder, curling his tongue into the folds of Brian’s sac while palming himself.

“ _Fuckingshit… Justin!_ ” Brian gasps, shudders and growls all at once as he tugs Justin up by his hair and shoves him down onto the bed. This is not the first time Justin is sent sprawling on his back and he knows what to do. Brian is at his most primal when he gets like this and Justin is spread and open and rock hard long before Brian is on top of him, dragging and pushing his cock against Justin’s.

“You make me fucking crazy, you know that?” And he looks it too. Ruffled hair, eyes as wild as his scent, his tongue driving deep into Justin’s mouth. “Tell me.”

“About Michael?” Justin frowns in confusion.

“No. New York. Tell me.”

“What?”

“Tell me. When I fucked you… took you like this. Jesus, you were so fucking hot I could have fucked you all night.”

“Really? You never said anything.”

The condom and lube is slick in Brian’s hand, slicker over his dick and slippery and wet and warm inside Justin. 

“Brian,” Justin murmurs with a content sigh. 

No one says his name like Justin does. Brian has tried many times to identify the difference, but hasn’t been able to pinpoint it. The ‘i’ is longer, but not in the way Theodore irritates him with ‘Bri.’ It’s softer, and yet it’s the sound in the word he hears most clearly. The longest syllable. Long enough to carry much more emotion than Brian can handle. It forces the air from his lungs, chases his heart out of his chest, and he fucking can’t live without it. He merely exists if he doesn’t hear his name first thing in the morning, and doesn’t see Justin smiling around the soft sound last thing at night. Fucking LA finally forced him to acknowledge at least that much.

He hasn’t had the courage yet to find something with which to reciprocate in a way that could possibly _tell_ Justin and not just show… Eager legs slip over his shoulders, clenching with the same tension and anticipation and need with which his cock is straining against Justin’s entrance.

“You were hard, so fucking hard… and big… _huuuge_ … bigger than you’ve ever felt… was sure I wouldn’t be able-”

“Did I hurt you?” Brian’s hips freeze, and upset he cups his hands around Justin’s face, gently stroking, conveying his worry through feather-light fingers.

“ _God, no_! Couldn’t you tell? Fuck, I wanted you _so_ much…” Justin grabs Brian’s hands and weaves their fingers tightly together, squeezing. “Brian, couldn’t you-… didn’t you know? How can you possibly think-… You were all I wanted. _Are_ all I want. Felt like I was breaking in half, and I fucking _loved_ it. Your cock up my ass, fucking me like that… oh, God… _fuck me_ … fuck me again like-” Justin yanks Brian’s head down and crashes their lips together. “FuckmefuckmeBrianfuck… _aaaahhhhhhh_ …”

With a hiss at the effort Brian fills Justin. Rocking deep into him, hips thrusting, folding Justin’s legs back against his chest when he leans forward to bury himself deeper between Justin’s lips than he is in his ass. His senses swim. Justin in his mouth… in his hands… in his arms… around him… surrounding him… under him… hot and sweaty and hungry and fragile and strong and beautiful… so fucking beautiful he can’t stand it. It’s not just his dick threatening to explode. All of him feels like it’s suspended in air, every thrust a countdown to eminent destruction. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, grimacing as he tries to fight what every part of him is screaming out for, but if anything he only succeeds into fucking Justin even harder, his knuckles clench white as he hold on to Justin, and Justin to him.

“Brian.”

Blue, blue eyes… So _fucking_ beautiful. Blue pools without a ripple of fear or uncertainty, just sunshine skimming across the surface, before settling around the beautiful mouth.

“Brian, let it go.”

There can be no doubt whatsoever that their presence is no longer a secret.

They climax together, each shudder forcing them deeper into each other until Brian can’t tell anymore where he ends and Justin begins. And not just his cock and Justin’s ass either. His hands are numb, his lips bruised and swollen, his tongue sluggish, their bodies sticking together and sliding over each other.

It’s with great reluctance that Brian eventually pulls out. Discarding the condom he wraps his arms around Justin and rolls onto his back. “Alright?” He catches Justin’s hand in his and presses his lips to the inside of his wrist, followed by a kiss to the top of the blond head. Slowly he runs his hands down Justin’s spine, tracing the curve of his ass with reverent fingers.

With a blissful moan Justin crawls closer, stroking Brian’s cheek with a lazy thumb. “You’re right, you don’t have bad ideas.”


	9. Chapter 9

**7 April, Monday evening**

“It’s not like I did it on purpose!”

“If you wanted me on my back you should have just asked. It wasn’t necessary to cripple me.”

“You have only yourself to blame. I told you we should move to the bed, but you _insisted_ -“

“I would not have tripped if you kept still like I told you to.”

“You were dripping ice-cream all over me!”

“It wasn’t that cold. God, you squealed like a- _fuck!_ ”

“Brian! Shit… You okay? Let me help-“

“I’m _fine_. I can fucking get up by myself.”

“You didn’t look _fine_ when you crashed into the coffee-table. I still say we should go to the emergency-“

“I said I’m fine! Now stop with the fucking fussing! I’m not bleeding, and I can still walk and-“

“Then walk to the fucking bed and stay there.”

“Fucking-nagging-little-”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“…”

“Why do you have to be so difficult- _Wait!_ Brian, just hold the fuck on, I’ll get it! …There, now get in, and lay still. I’m going to get some ice and-“

“Admit it, you wanted me on my back all along.”

“I don’t need you to bruise your hip to get you to spread for me.”

“Spread, me? Spread what?”

“ _Christ_ , you look _so_ fucking hot like that.”

“Like what?”

“With your legs like _this_.”

“ _What the fuck?_ You’re going to force a helpless- _Ouch, fuck!_ ”

“Oh, it hurts? I thought you said you were fine. _Poor_ Brian, want me to kiss it better?”

“Don’t you fucking _dare_!”

“…”

“ _Uuhhh…_ That’s _not_ my hip.”

“No, it’s your cock… and these are your balls… and back here…”

“ _Aaahhh-… Ouch! Christ! Be careful!_ ”

“You’re clearly in too much pain to fuck me, so I’ll fuck you instead. You just lay _back_ and relax. And don’t worry, I’ll take it real slow… First I’m going to put my fingers up your ass, like this, until-”

“ _Justin-_ “

“What’s wrong? Not man enough to take a bit of pain? I promise I’ll be careful. I won’t _come_ anywhere near your hip, only in your ass. And then on your chest if you ask nicely.”

“ _Uuhhh… Jesus!… Fuuuuuck…_ Lube’s on… _aaahhhh…_ on the nightstand.”


	10. Chapter 10

**9 April, Wednesday (very early) morning**

The key turns quietly, but the loft door grinds across the floor and my nerves, and I cringe. 3:08. In the fucking _morning_. I’m late, in more ways than one, and already I’m wondering how to make it up to him. 

He called around lunch, saying he’d like to cook and would I be home for dinner? I replied with my usual ‘no carbs after 7’ rule, he interrupted me, laughed and said ‘of course.’ I called him back five hours later to tell him I wasn’t going to make it. My new junior executive earned himself a payslip, his last from Kinnetik, and I had to pick up the pieces. Literally. My ex-employee threw one hell of a tantrum, and tore up the boards that had offended my quality standards so much to shreds before security could get there. Subsequently I ended up at the office until close to 3:00 am.

I hope the fucking asshole got a handful of paper cuts.

Justin said he understood, and please, would I make sure I ate something and got some sleep, and I felt terrible. Yelling and screaming and pouting and giving me the silent treatment and a cold shoulder is easy. I just fuck him until he is so tired and worn out he doesn’t have any energy left to be mad at me. But it seems some good _did_ come from his flirt with the famous. He hasn’t been giving me any shit about changing our plans at the last minute since he has return from LA, acknowledging it’s _only_ business, even if it is _my_ business, and his quiet acceptance and support gets to me much more than his queening ever did.

The loft is dark, as I expected, except for the TV. I take off my shoes, slide my briefcase and laptop onto the counter and find him sleeping on the couch. He is on his side, his palms pressed together under his cheek, the blanket pulled up high over his shoulder. I kneel in front of him, unable to stop myself from stroking his hair. It’s not nearly enough contact, and I try to keep my touch as light as possible as I trace the lines of the beautiful face. His breathing changes while he gradually wakes up, and I watch, captivated, as he smiles, his eyes still closed.

“Brian.” Lazy arms want me and I move into his embrace. My lips find his, my palms his heated skin under the blanket and I’m hard. 3:30 am in the fucking morning, I’m exhausted, as is he, and all I can think about is _him. All_ of him. Having and taking and touching and tasting and wanting and needing _him_. His smile widens between my teeth and the tip of my tongue leans against his briefly. 

“You’re home.”

“I’m late. I’m-“

The sleepy lips are suddenly strong, and I’m taken by surprise when he digs his fingers into my skull, forcing me to swallow my words and move deeper into his mouth.

“I’m glad you’re home.” He kisses the tip of my nose and loosens his grip on my head slightly. “I was getting cold.”

I run my hand over his ribs and around his waist, trail his hip and circle his thigh, relishing the tension I can feel building in his body. My cock is aching, and I undress quickly before spooning behind him, settling between him and the back of the couch. He lifts his head for my arm to curl under it and across his chest and with a happy noise he wriggles until my cock is wedged in his crack. I weave our fingers together, place our hands over his heart, and in response he nestles his head into the hollow formed between my chin and shoulder. Automatically my arm tightens around him, gathering more of him against me, and with the mischievous grin I know all too well he tilts his head upwards. My lips are glued to his temple and he makes the small sound I _also_ know so well. His ‘you’re going to fuck me’ sound.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Don’t want to.”

The stubbornness in his voice makes me laugh and I bite his neck. Jesus, I love his taste, how his mouth is so different from his balls and his nipples from his nape and his ass from his dick. His skin is damp, sweet with traces of sleep and sweat and I lick a broad line up his throat and around the curve of his ear. “So what _do_ you want?”

“You, like this.”

“What _‘this’_?” 

He rubs his ass against my dick and with a groan I leave teeth marks on his shoulder. “Justin-“

Lube and a condom appear from out of nowhere and by now I’m on fire, the concentrated heat pooling in my groin leaving me no choice but to grind against him, _hard_. With difficulty I pull away, sheathing myself before generously coating my fingers with lube. He grunts when I very slowly, very carefully push a finger inside him. Taking him like this, from behind and with both of us on our sides, isn’t an opportunity for rough riding, not if I want him to enjoy it as well, so I always take my time to prepare him. Of course it makes me go insane to wait so long before I can fuck his ass, but that’s part of it. By the time he is ready for me to enter him I’m so close to coming it only takes a couple of thrusts, which in this instance is a good thing since we’re in such close quarters.

His breathing is becoming heavy, and I slow down even more when I switch from one finger to two. Inside he is warm, and wet, and not only from the lube. The smell of sex is filling the air around us, and I force my fingers to relax. In my mind I’m already fucking him, swelling in his tunnel, feeling his muscles clench and unclench as I coax him to let me in.

My knuckles slide past his entrance, and the acute awareness of him stretching to open for me folds my body into a tight ball around his back, my mouth clamped shut on his nape as I fight for control. My knees push against the back of his legs and my head drops onto his shoulder as the sensation spreads from the tip of my fingers through the rest of me. I’m shivering so much my teeth are rattling, sweat running down my body and onto and over him in streams.

By now he is vocal, moaning my name over and over as he reaches back to grab my hair and pull me closer. Dear God, I can’t _be_ any closer and not…

“Justin, I-“

Again he silences me with a kiss, flicking the tip of his tongue between my lips with a firm mandate. I pull my fingers out almost all the way, before pushing back in, little by little, finding his prostrate and rubbing over it with calculated movements. His reaction is immediate, and I don’t stop him when he palms himself. I don’t speed up, neither does he, jerking himself off with long, languid strokes.

Lifting his leg slightly he wordlessly begs. I am salivating for his ass, choking on my own spit as I imagine my cock forcing his cheeks apart and pushing into his hole. Three fingers inside him are almost more than I can bear and I stop, overwhelmingly aware of the throbbing between my legs, and my desire to pump pleasure into him.

He knows why I stopped, but doesn’t like it, and his tug on my hair is a bit harder this time.

“Shhh,” I manage, focusing all my energy on keeping my fingers from fucking their way inside. “Don’t-“

“Don’t want to wait.”

No matter how much time I take, how careful I am, how much effort I put into it, I will never get used to how tight he _always_ is. I push, keeping a firm grip on my dick until I feel the tip slide beyond his ring of muscle. My hand is a dark shadow on his hip, soothingly rubbing and gently pressing his leg down. The pressure around me increases, becomes incredibly intense, and I place my free arm around his waist for better leverage to bury myself in him. Even through the latex I can feel him, his hole clutching at the base of my cock where I’m joined with him. I’m not as deep inside as I can be, and our position doesn’t allow much room for movement, but that’s how I want it. How I need it, tonight, as he does. I take him with slow, short thrusts, each an intricate combination of my arms and leg muscles working with his body to make the most of the available friction.

Popular perception has it I trick as a means to unwind, and most of the time I do. But after a day like today, when tension is coiled from the small of my back to my temples, he is what I want. Justin. Taking him like this, every moment maddening, and needing my full attention. It’s when I’m concentrating on him, making sure I’m not hurting him, and thereby feeling every sensation he feels, adding it to my own… _that’s_ when I loose myself, when I fucking finally calm down.

I’m on the verge of coming, but I’m fighting it. Apart from feeling him spasm around and against me, and adding my own climax to his, nothing feels as good as the seconds on the cusp of the wave, looking down before falling, knowing I have him to hold on to and it’s okay to let go. Urgency wins out when he clenches around me, folding in half with a cry when his cock goes rigid in his hand, coating his fingers and mine with surge after surge of hot cum.

I yank him back against me, and me into him. My knees pull up of their own accord, pushing his upwards to his chest, and reaching back he grips his ass to open that little bit more I need to send me flying. I pull out as far as possible one last time, before falling into him. Tension and release flow together, and explode from the head of my cock, blasting the rest of me apart.

I hold him for a long time, long after we have both stopped shaking, without pulling out. I love my cock in his ass as much as he does, and I love holding him close while keeping a watchful hand on the condom and my softening dick. I love listening to him fall asleep in my arms, hot and warm and sweaty and filled and satisfied, knowing it’s because of me.

I’m nuzzling his neck, placing slow kisses up and down his throat and behind his ear, sure he is dozing off, when he stirs.

“Take me to bed.” 

“Thought I just did.”

“Again.”


	11. Chapter 11

**10 April, Thursday afternoon, gym steam room**

“If I knew it was this hot I would have come a lot sooner,” Justin says, waiting for Brian to sit down on the tiled bench before quickly straddling him. 

One would think with all the fucking they’ve been doing they would both be too exhausted to show any further interest in sex, at least for a day, but watching Brian undress in the locker room after his work-out was just too hot for Justin to ignore. Brian turned around before he could hide his interest, or his _very_ interested cock, and went into predatory mode immediately. His eyes darkened as he returned Justin’s stare, the lustful look lingering on Justin’s hand stroking himself.

“It’s a steam room, of course it’s hot.” Brian cups Justin’s ass cheeks and pulls him closer. The tiles are wet and slippery and with ease Justin’s knees slide forward, forcing his legs open over Brian’s lap.

Around them men in various stages of having a towel wrapped around their waist to not wearing one at all groan, grunt and gasp as hands and tongues find dicks and mouths.

“You’re so hot like this,” Justin whispers thickly, his fingers tangling through Brian’s wet hair as their lips meet in a toe-curling kiss. His moan adds to the blissful sounds trailing through the steam when Brian slips his hands beneath the loosely tucked towel around Justin’s hips, fingers lightly stroking the curve of his ass in lazy circles, and dipping into his crack every so often. 

“Hot.“ He trails a finger down Brian’s chest, taking a detour to flick at a nipple, greedy blue eyes following the ripples of muscles across Brian’s pecs. “And sweaty.“

Brian’s throat vibrates against his tongue and Justin takes another taste, licking and sucking at the rivulets running down the side of Brian’s neck. God, he loves being with Brian like this. Not necessarily the steam room, that’s just a momentary setting. But taking it slow, touching and working up a hunger which always leads to them devouring each other with a mind-numbing intensity.

“Brian.” His voice is low, want and need packaged tightly into the one word. He grinds down on Brian, rubbing their dicks together urgently. “Fuck, I want you so much.”

Brian shivers at the husky tone, his cock slick against Justin’s, pre-cum mixing with heat and steam and burning desire. He forces a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. Continuing like this will have both of them exploding within seconds, and as much as he craves it, the build-up is as much fun and he wants to play for as long as possible.

“This turning you on?” He asks, teasingly. His hands fold over Justin’s legs, thumbs brushing against the base of Justin’s shaft when he pushes the taut inner thighs further apart. “Spread them for me,” he orders, his tongue and teeth ghosting over the shell of Justin ear. Justin does so eagerly, tilting his hips upwards as Brian’s fingers explore deep behind his balls. 

“What do you want?” Brian brushes the tip of his tongue between Justin’s lips, just as his fingers penetrate Justin’s ass. Justin hisses, adding to the cloud of moisture gathering between them as their breathing speeds up… become heavy…

“You.” Justin flattens his palms over the contours of Brian’s chest, pinching his nipples once… twice before moving off to his sides, and dragging his nails down to Brian’s waist. His body is rigid with tension, screaming to blow, and the same need radiating from Brian is driving him crazy. With a groan he sinks his teeth into Brian’s shoulder. Holding back, slowing down, concentrating, focusing on following Brian’s pace. Brian has always been better at this than him, staying in control and able to arouse Justin to the point of fighting to push Brain down on his back and taking what he wants without Brian going into a frenzy himself. Not immediately, anyway.

“Want me to finger fuck you? Want my fingers up your ass?” 

“Jesus Christ… You know I do.”

“Say it.”

“Fuck me. Put your fingers in my ass and fuck me. _Hard. Now._ ”

The angle is awkward, and Brian is not going to be anywhere near as deep in Justin as he wants to be, but somehow barely being able to curl his fingers just beyond the ring of muscle is incredibly hot. As much as both of them enjoy putting on a public display, as much is there something extremely erotic in taking Justin on his lap, his hand hidden between them under a draped towel, and not clearly visible to the horny crowd salivating around them.

“Shit, yeah… _more… Brian-_ “ Justin shudders, thrusting his hips forward in his need to work up more friction. Taking Brian’s free hand in his he meshes their fingers together and folds their joined hands around their cocks. His forehead drops on Brian’s shoulder and he closes his eyes, small whimpers and moans and Brian’s name escaping from behind clamped jaws as he frantically fucks their clenched fists.

“ _Fuuuuck…_ “ Justin grabs Brian’s chin roughly, plunging his tongue in Brian’s mouth as he comes. Brian feels Justin’s hand slides from under his as he goes under, lost in the pleasure shaking his body apart, and strengthening their grip he increases the strokes on their cocks, pressing his thumb into Justin’s slit, warm and wet and bubbling with cum.

Justin tries to pull away, crying out at the overwhelming sensations rocking through his sensitive tip, but Brian is holding fast. The rhythm of Brian’s fingers thrusting up his ass changes, pushing harder, managing to go deeper, and insisting on grazing his prostate irrespective of the limitations of their position. Justin’s voice mingles with Brian’s when he comes for a second time, his body convulsing uncontrollably. Throwing his arms around Brian’s neck he falls forward, moving his weight off his knees and clenching his legs around Brian’s waist.

Brian’s release starts in his toes, sending goosebumps ahead as it races up his calves, through his legs, bursting from his dick before spreading through the rest of him with a searing heat. Clutching a shivering Justin tightly Brian buries the side of his face against his shoulder, his head tucked under Justin’s chin.

Neither of them noticed how they got louder and the steam room quieter, and both startle at the sudden catcalls and clapping and whistling.

“That was hot,” Justin giggles and snuggles closer in Brian’s arms.

“Want to do it again sometime?”

Justin returns Brian’s slow, long kiss, before nudging the tip of Brian’s nose with his. “Do you really have to go back to the office now?”


	12. Chapter 12

**11 April, Friday morning**

**Background:** Brian said he’ll go to Daphne’s party with Justin if they fuck in three public places of his choice, and Justin rims him and makes him come within ten minutes.

They’ve fucked at Debbie’s, which was the first venue. Brian is now arranging for venue two.

_9:03 AM user bkinney signed in_

9:03 AM **me:** you busy?

9:03 AM **JUSTIN:** why?  
missing my ass already?

9:04 AM **me:** and your mouth  
maybe a bit of the rest of you, too

9:04 AM **JUSTIN:** I do have talented fingers

_Last message sent 9:04 AM_

_BRIAN is typing_

9:07 AM **me:** they're alright

9:08 AM **JUSTIN:** they were more than alright when I jerked you off at the gym yesterday

9:08 AM **me:** was fucking hot

9:08 AM **JUSTIN:** it was  
felt incredible, your fingers fucking me like that  
all those guys watching  
makes me hard just thinking about it

9:09 AM **me:** remember the first time I fucked you in public?

9:09 AM **JUSTIN:** of course  
it was in the old bath house  
that is now your office

_JUSTIN is typing_

9:10 AM **JUSTIN:** you want to fuck me at Kinnetik?  
this one of your public fuck choices?

_Last message sent 9:10 AM_

_BRIAN is typing_

9:14 AM **me:** yes  
and yes

9:15 AM **JUSTIN:** but we've fucked there before

9:15 AM **me:** not like this

9:15 AM **JUSTIN:** ?

9:16 AM **me:** remember _how_ I fucked you?

_JUSTIN is typing_

9:16 AM **JUSTIN:** no way

9:16 AM **me:** you want to go to Daphne's party?

9:16 AM **JUSTIN:** that's not fair

9:16 AM **me:** it is  
we've got an agreement  
unless you want out

9:17 AM **JUSTIN:** fuck  
can't believe you're doing this

_JUSTIN is typing_

9:17 AM **JUSTIN:** can't believe _I'm_ doing this!  
fine  
what do you want me to do?

_Last message sent 9:17 AM_

_BRIAN is typing_

9:21 AM **me:** you'll enjoy it  
promise

9:21 AM **JUSTIN:** don't doubt it  
that's the problem

9:21 AM **me:** 3 pm

9:22 AM **JUSTIN:** you want me on all fours  
with the whole of Kinnetik right there?  
middle of the afternoon?

_JUSTIN is typing_

9:23 AM **JUSTIN:** you know we’re not quiet, right?

9:23 AM **me:** you, not me

9:24 AM **JUSTIN:** yeah?  
_right_  
it’s because of _me_ that Michael caught us fucking in their bathroom

9:24 AM **me:** exactly  
you’ll have to try harder to keep it down

9:24 AM **JUSTIN:** you don’t like it when I keep _it_ down  
like me _up_  
and hard  
and coming all over you  
and apparently all over your office floor as well

9:25 AM **me:** I do  
so don’t jerk off before you get here

9:25 AM **JUSTIN:** this is fuck 3, right?  
you’ll come with me to the party now?

9:25 AM **me:** it’s 2  
_come,_ yes  
but not going to the party yet  
all depends on your performance

9:26 AM **JUSTIN:** thought gym was 2?

9:26 AM **me:** gym was because you couldn’t keep your hands of me  
and ‘fuck’ is my cock up your ass  
not my fingers  
steam room yesterday didn’t count

9:26 AM **JUSTIN:** can’t keep changing the rules

9:26 AM **me:** no rules  
just me fucking your ass  
you eating mine  
you do remember you should still try to rim me before Monday?  
see you at 3  
don’t be late

_9:27 AM user bkinney signed out_

_Brian is offline and can't receive messages right now._


	13. Chapter 13

**11 April, Friday afternoon**

"Tuesday is not good enough. I want those boards on my table by noon on Monday." Movement outside of his office catches Brian's eye and his scowl lifts when he beckons for Justin to come in. He recently bought him a blue cashmere turtleneck and oh, _Christ_ , he looks hot. Scrumptious enough to eat, to lick and devour like an ice-cream cone on a summer’s day under blue skies… He could swear Justin’s eyes have gotten bluer since his six months stay in California… Or it might just be the sweater bringing out the various sparks and flecks... Or it might be that these days Brian gets lost in the deep pools so often he can’t help but acknowledge their true color… and accept what has always been there, plain for everyone else to see while he refused to even consider the way Justin’s eyes light up when he looks at Brian means so much more than just lust for Brian’s dick.

His cock swells, caught between his legs and the confinement of his briefs, and impatiently Brian tries to rearrange himself without having to undress completely. He will let Justin do the honors. 

There are few things… no, wait. Justin loves everything and anything to do with sex, it will be unfair to Brian’s dick and tongue and hands and sex toys everywhere to say he loves getting Brian out of his clothes most of all. The same can be said for him, he fucking _loves_ stripping Justin. The sight of small patches of skin appearing… his scent becoming stronger with every button opened… light tufts of hair peeking out as Brian slides his jeans down… He has had a problem with Justin’s clothes ever since that first morning, when Michael walked in on him doing his best to dress Justin… or undress… He can’t remember. There was a couple of practice runs after they showered, where he would get Justin’s pants back on, just to take them off again. He can’t recall whether he was pulling up or pushing down when Michael interrupted.

"I don't give a shit. You've got the whole fucking weekend to work on it. Monday. Noon." Brian slams the phone down, and leaning back in the chair he rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He is so fucking tired. Not that he will _ever_ say anything to Justin. Especially since it’s _definitely_ not because of their sex life, which has been keeping them from sleeping more than four hours a night for the last couple of weeks, that he has to stifle yawn after yawn at the office. If he had more competent people working for him it wouldn’t be necessary to do everyone else’s work in addition to making Kinnetik a viable place of employment.

"Hard day?" Justin asks sympathetically.

"In all the wrong ways. Come here."

Justin walks around the desk, and goes willingly when Brian tugs him onto his lap. The remainder of Brian’s frown relaxes under the lips brushing across his forehead and temples, and disappears completely when Justin gently combs his fingers through the dark hair. Tightening their embrace he buries his face in Justin’s neck with a frustrated groan.

"Anything I can do to help?" 

Strong hands chase away the tension in his shoulders and Brian goes slack. His dick isn’t the only muscle which adores massaging and kneading of any kind, and Justin knows exactly how to touch him, knows his every sex- and weak spots and how to use them to get what he wants. Of course Brian knows just as well how to return the favor.

"Fuck, you smell good," Brian mumbles, slipping his hands under Justin's sweater and running light fingers up and down his spine. Warm skin under his palms and soft fabric whispering over his knuckles… Add even softer lips and a warmer tongue and it’s no surprise Cynthia has to knock twice before she gets Brian’s attention.

" _What?_ " Justin's fingers dig warningly into Brian’s upper arms and with visible effort he tries to look civil. "Cynthia. What can I do for you?"

"Here are those reports you wanted," she says, unfazed by her boss' dark mood. With a smile in Justin's direction she turns to leave.

"Hold my calls." Brian returns Justin's burning gaze as he slides his thumb over the full lower lip. A pink tongue darts out, but isn’t quick enough to catch his finger. Best out of three then. Brian sweeps his thumb back across, giving the enthusiastic mouth another chance. "And no visitors." He glares at her. " _No_ one. Clear?"

"Sure." She winks at Justin and he gives a breathless laugh.

"You're grumpy," he remarks good-naturedly once the door clicks closed behind Cynthia, and plants a kiss behind Brian’s ear. Cupping the weary face he touches his forehead to Brian’s and nudges the tip of his nose. "What are we going to do about it?"

"I like where this is going so far," Brian purrs, waiting for Justin to finish unbuttoning his shirt, something that takes a great deal of time since Justin’s tongue and teeth put a lot of effort and care into marking each spot previously hidden behind a button, before tackling the next one. Brian makes a noise low in his throat, indicating his enjoyment. The last button gives way and fisting his hands in Justin’s hair he brings him closer until their lips meet, and their tongues can play. Weaving their fingers together he deepens the kiss, and sneaks his other hand in the general direction of Justin’s dick.

Justin grins, and with a cocky wiggle of his hips against Brian’s groin moves off his lap. Brian doesn’t let go of his hand, but instead tugs him back to stand between his legs. He bunches Justin's sweater under his arms, high enough to find a nipple to lick. "You taste good, too." He rubs a finger over the taut bud, enjoying the subsequent goosebumps spreading across Justin’s chest. He loves watching Justin’s reactions to his touch, affirming how he has full power over Justin’s body. 

Brian has seen him with other men, sucking, blowing and fucking trick after trick, and he is never as responsive to any of them as he is to Brian’s hands and mouth and words and cock. Just being in the same room with Brian causes his hair to stand on end, as Brian’s does whenever Justin is close by.

Justin smirks. "You should know, you washed me this morning, and dressed me.” With a finger under Brian’s chin he tips his mouth upwards for a kiss. “I'm very proud of you for that, by the way. You actually managed to leave my clothes on for a change." 

Brian's lips are hungry, needy, and instinctively Justin draws him closer. Brian, like this, vulnerable, letting his guard down and showing Justin he _needs_ … oh, fuck it's hot, hothothothot _hot_. It knocks him off his feet and makes him hard as fuck and sometimes has the power to reduce him to tears by the sheer beauty of it.

"I didn't want to, but you were making such a fuss about it I hardly had any choice." Annoyed Brian tries to get his hands on Justin’s cheeks hidden in the tight fitting jeans. He is of two minds. If he doesn't undress Justin he can't run his fingers down his crack… slip into his hole… but he looks so fucking hot, his perfect ass rounded and accentuated by the stiff material, it would be a shame to take it off him.

"Bullshit! You were still crawling after I blew you in the shower. You were just too happy to let me get dressed." 

"It was obvious you wouldn't survive another round, so I took pity on you."

Justin bites Brian's earlobe mischievously, slipping Brian’s shirt off his shoulders and scraping his nails over the well-defined arms. He grins broadly when he feels Brian shiver slightly against him, and doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer again when he grips Brian’s hand firmly in his, and leads him to the couch. Brian doesn’t put up any resistance when he pushes him down on his back and Justin’s stomach flips as liquid heat floods his veins, racing to his dick and turning him on almost beyond endurance. He knows he is the only one Brian allows this close. Sure, Michael tries, have been trying for years, and sometimes he does succeed in getting Brian to stop drinking or go to bed (with _out_ Michael) or go home, but it’s never without putting up a fight.

"You’re sure about this?" Justin tosses his sweater aside before prodding Brian’s legs apart and settling between his thighs. With the tips of his fingers he traces the contours of Brian’s face over and over again, his other hand propped on Brian’s chest to support his chin as his eyes hold the hazel ones. 

So many times in LA it felt like Rage was all he had left, a super-hero Brian, and he missed the human, the _real_ Brian, immensely. Now, weeks after his return, he is still getting reacquainted with the familiar features, mapping it to those engraved in his mind over the years, and he still snatches any opportunity he gets to skim hands and lips over Brian’s cheekbones… the sides of his face… his temples… his eyes… nose… mouth... his tongue… Brian doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, Justin has the distinct impression he is doing the same thing. Brian has always been tactile, but these days there are times when it feels as if Brian is trying to crawl into his skin with him, and it isn’t just because he can’t keep his hands off a nice piece of blond ass. 

Desire flares, throbbing almost painfully through his already begging dick, when Brian grips his wrist and sucks his knuckles. Brian’s other hand slides down his sides and over his hips before cupping his ass with an unmistakable command. With a low moan Justin obeys and hurriedly scoots upwards. Anything, he will do _anything_ to have his world spin out of control this much on at least an hourly basis, minutes would be better. “You know everyone can see us?”

“Why, Sunshine, are you turning _modest_ on me?”

“Fucking me naked in the backroom is a bit different from giving your employees a show. When’s your next meeting?”

“Don’t have one.”

“You’re done for the day?”

With a grunt Brian spreads his legs in invitation for Justin's hand sneaking into his fly. He’s wet; he can feel the damp cotton of his briefs rub against the head of his cock when he moves. Or when Justin's fingers push his briefs to the side, gripping him firmly, like they're doing now. “Not e-… _aaaahhhh_ …-ven close.” Justin's thumb grazes him again and involuntarily his nails dig into Justin’s lower back.

From all his many accomplishments (and there are many!) his training of Justin has to be at the top of the list. Natural aptitude had a lot to do with it, and if ever there was a natural cocksucker it's Justin, but those abilities had to be discovered and, above all, _practiced to perfection_ , and for that Brian takes all the credit. He should remember it next time he goes shopping, to get Justin something to celebrate his achievement of being the best fuck and best kisser and best partn-, fuck, Brian’s best fucking everything. 

“Jesus, Brian, it’s bad enough that they can hear us, can we at least just move away from the door? And I’m _not_ getting down on my knees without anything between me and the floor.”

With an exaggerated ‘humph’ Brian gestures for Justin to get off him. “You are such a drama princess. Here, take the couch cushions, but no more complaints. I’m going to fuck you, _hard_ , with your ass in the air, and you’re going to come, _loudly_.”

Walking to the opposite side of the room, across from Brian’s desk, Justin shrugs in make-belief defeat, and tosses the cushions on the floor. “I do like the idea of you up my ass though. It’s been a long day.” Stepping out of his jeans he lies down on his side, and pats the spot next to him. 

“You missed me? That’s so _sweet._ ” Brian mocks as he adds the last of the cushions to the collection. 

“And more than just your cock.” Justin ignores Brian’s sarcasm and watches spellbound, practically salivating, as Brian undresses before joining him on the make-shift bed. Elegant… graceful… so goddamn hot. No matter _wha_ t Brian is doing, whether he’s playing around all goofy or presenting to a client or angry and yelling or stoic and silent or first thing in the morning before he combs his hair and brushes his teeth, Brian is always so fucking beautiful. “I could get used to this.”

“Me fucking you on my office floor?” Brian catches the fingers trailing over his chest and presses them to his mouth. Justin draws a sharp breath and Brian grins smugly at the fluttering eyelids. Already? He hasn’t even _thought_ about getting started yet, and already Justin’s toes are curling. He has no shortage of self-confidence in his ability to make Justin’s body dance to the rhythm of his, and yet he still marvels at Justin’s response to a lick like _this_ … a kiss like _this_ … another nudge of his nose like _this_ … How he can make Justin beg at his feet or melt in his arms or claw furrows in his back with a slight change in the pressure of his touch.

“That too.”

“You like it.” Brian murmurs against the inside of Justin’s wrist. Blue veins crisscross over and under sinewy tissue and muscle, too many to isolate, but Brian tries to kiss each one anyway. He’ll just continue running his tongue up and down Justin’s arm until he can be sure he got them all at least once. His mouth lingers momentarily below the open palm, waiting for his heart to calm down enough for him to pick-up Justin’s pulse against his lips. “You _looove_ it.”

“It’s okay,” Justin says nonchalantly, doing his best not to squirm at the teasing of Brian’s tongue between his fingers.

“Just okay?” Affronted Brian flips him onto his back, and digs his fingers into Justin’s ribs as he straddles him. “It’s great. Say it’s great.” Justin squeals and tries to dislodge Brian from his hips but only serves to prolong his punishment. “Say it’s great.” Gasps turn into helpless giggles when Brian’s tickling fingers assault his stomach as well. “Say it’s great!”

“Okay, okay!” Breathless Justin throws his hands up in surrender. “It’s great!” Hazel eyes laugh victory into his, causing Justin’s heart to stumble. Quickly he pushes Brian’s hair back from his face, not wanting to miss a single bit of the happiness radiating from him. He’s wearing his hair longer than what Justin is used to, and sometimes it’s just too much of a reminder of how many months he had been away. Note to self, he has to come up with a plan to get Brian to cut it again, wear it shorter like he did after Justin’s fiasco with he-who-shall-not-be-named. He looked adorable with his hair sticking out on all sides after they’ve fucked. Adorable and fuckmefuckmefuckmeagain _now_ hot. 

Satisfied Brian picks up the nearby lube and flops onto his side once more, propped up on his elbow to face a sprawling and panting Justin. “They all heard you, everyone knows I’m fucking your ass right now,” he says in a dramatic whisper, his lips promising all sorts of delicious wickedness against Justin’s throat. “It turns you on, knowing anyone can walk in here at any moment and find you under me, my dick up your ass.” 

Brian rolls him and Justin onto his back, pulls one knee across his hip, and leaves the other stretched down the outside of his leg with Justin’s hard-on grinding into Brian’s stomach. He runs his hand along the crease just below Justin’s cheek, and smiles when he feels Justin go tense, waiting. _Wanting_. “Would it bother you?” A squirt of lube, brief resistance and then his finger is inside. Justin’s hole clenches and Brian’s dick stirs restlessly, envious of the bliss closing around his fingers.

“Would- _Fuck, Brian_ -“ Justin breaks off at his body’s demand for his undivided attention. Brian is coaxing and drawing moans from deep within him, the pleasure spiraling from exceptionally skilful fingers smoldering its way to his nerve endings… slowly killing him… slowly making him come alive. It feels incredible. “Would what bother me?” Justin shifts his focus from the fingers fucking him and tries again to participate with the head on his _shoulders_ in a conversation on what he senses isn’t just some random subject. 

“If someone did walk in.”

“I don’t know… if it’s a straight guy he is going to be seriously pissed off and I like that. If-“ Brian’s fingers push deep, and of their own accord Justin’s legs open wider, forcing a hiss through his teeth as he bites and sucks and licks at Brian’s shoulder, up his throat to the sensitive spot behind his ear. He can just imagine what they must look like, Brian flat on his back, cock pointing skywards between Justin’s spread thighs, and Justin a writhing mess of lust on top of him, his ass desperately pleading for more as it rocks against Brian’s hand. “If he’s gay he’s going to want to join us,” he says with a grunt of satisfaction when Brian adds a third finger.

“And if it’s a woman?”

“Won’t happen. No way will a woman be able to make it past Cynthia. Most males won’t- _fuuuuuuuuck_ … Do that again.”

“You’ve always been hot for my fingers up your ass,” Brian chuckles. He closes his eyes, isolating the feel of Justin’s wet heat around and between his fingers. A sheen of sweat is forming under his arms where it rests on Justin’s bare back, one hand folded around a shoulder, the other adding force to his fingers digging into Justin’s hole. He inhales deeply and savors their fused scent like he would a drag on a cigarette. His second breath is urgent, like the junkie he is… addicted to this… fucking this right _here_ … whatever the fuck _this_ is.

“I like them-… _aahhh_ … _fuck, tell me before you do that!_... _uuuhh, yeeesss_... I like them almost as much as I like your cock.”

“No substitute for the real thing though.”

“No. No substi-… _uuuhhh_ … substitute for you, either.”

“What about all the movie stars you fucked?” Where the _fuck_ did that come from? Brian clamps his jaw shut, wishing he could take the words back, or at least change them from sounding so… so fucking… _not_ jealous…

Justin frowns, trying to think through the buzz in his brain. Something feels wrong, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. Speaking of which… where did Brian’s fingers go? Justin reaches behind him and pushes Brian’s hand down on his cheeks, guiding the passive fingers back to his hole. “With emphasize on ‘fuck _ed_.’”

“No one fucked you while you were in LA?” Fuck if he doesn’t sound relieved. Brian bites his lip, taken by surprise at how much he wants it to be true. Him, Brian Kinney, _the_ example to queers everywhere for turning tricks, fucking around for instantaneous gratification and finding mediocre means of meeting carnal needs. Fucking hard he fucked for his reputation, too.

Justin’s head flies up, bewildered eyes searching Brian’s. “You _know_ my ass is only yours. Except for the couple of times you wanted to watch some guy fuck me. Christ, those made you so hard.” He pulls Brian into a gut-burning kiss. “They barely had time to come before you shoved them away to fuck me yourself.”

“You didn’t bottom in LA,” Brian states quietly, carefully keeping his voice neutral. Well… _shit_. At least he _tried_ to sound indifferent. 

“No. Does it matter?” 

“Of- _course_ -not. As long as you had the best time you could possibly have.” Brian’s delight at his swift, _correct_ answer vanishes more quickly than Emmett does under a yummie guy when Justin pins him with a piercing stare.

“I did, and I didn’t. I missed you. Why didn’t you come out to visit more often? You were there only once, and that was right before I came home. Why did you wait so long?” 

“I didn’t think it would make a difference. You had your life there, I had mine here.” 

Understanding dawns on Justin and for a long moment he and Brian just blink at one another, Justin’s hand glued to Brian’s chin. “You really didn’t expect me to come back, did you?”

“Why would you?” A cold hand twists Brian’s insides at the expression on Justin’s face, freezing the air in his lungs into a haze of particles too dense to let the oxygen through. He doesn’t understand, doesn’t know what he did or said to cause Justin to look so… so… unhappy… no… it’s more than that. Exasperation? Impatience? _Fuck_ … Hurt and sadness. A _lot_ of sadness. _Fuckfuckfuck_. Enough sadness to carry tears with it. _Fucked up again_. 

“Because- …for God’s sake, Brian, I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. After four years, everything we’ve- …how can you still not know all I want is to be with you?” Justin asks in a voice low with the threatening tears. He swallows thickly. _After four years_ … After four years the man of his dreams is finally his… His to also take _care off_... It’s nothing new that Brian needs a bit of encouragement every now and again while he is still coming to terms with having a partner, and Justin has lots of encouragement to give. He knows just how…

…And fuck if Justin isn’t _petting_ his face. And double fuck if it doesn’t feel goddamn fucking good. “So you’re happy to be back,” Brian dares one more time, giving up on any further attempts to hide his uncertainty, and rather directing his energy to deal with how much he wants to believe Justin’s every word, and how much more he wants sunshine in his arms, not a thunderstorm unleashing buckets full of tear drops.

“Yes and no. Yes, because I missed you like fuck and I don’t want to spend my life thousands of miles away from you with only jerking off together over the phone every now and again. No, because it was exciting and I enjoyed it. And you would too, you’d fucking _love_ it. I’ve never seen so many hot guys together in one place. But it was lonely, and after a while one ass is very much like the next. I don’t know how you stand tricking. It’s boring.” 

_Enough... Enough with the LA shit._

“It depends on who you trick _with_ ,” Brian replies smugly in an effort to regain his balance and plant his feet on firm territory with a subject he _does_ know everything about. His fingers resume their most recent assignment with enthusiasm, and he smiles at Justin’s appreciative noises - as does his cock, hard and demanding in his fist. He has no intention of coming anywhere except in Justin’s ass, but the leisurely strokes are heating his blood even more, which _is_ part of the plan. Justin will be _loud_ , and come _hard_ , and beg for more with barely enough time to first gather his senses again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like the time I fucked the good _Father_ Tom at the Baths, next to you fucking whoever he was.” Grabbing a condom and the lube he pushes against Justin’s shoulder. “Roll over.”

“That was really hot,” Justin replies. He scuttles to get on his hands and knees, excitement pulsing through him. 

Brian kisses Justin’s shoulder, his fingers admiring the graceful arch of Justin’s back to where it meets up with the curves of his ass, before he kneels behind him. “It was. You look good, fucking. Not as hot as me, of course.” In spite of the time he took to prepare Justin he is still tight and a shiver pulls at Brian’s balls when he pushes harder, forcing the ring of muscle to part and let him through.

“Of… of course. But- … _aaahhhh_ … who does?”

“Exactly.” 

“Which is just one of many reasons I came- … _fuck yeah_ … _yessss_ … came back. There’s no Brian Kinney in LA.”

“Good,” Brian mumbles, more to himself than Justin, while he sets a slow pace, somehow now reluctant to wildly pound and slam and hammer into Justin. _Fuck_. He always _knew_ no good _comes_ from talking, and here’s proof. Discussing fucking _feelings_ has made his dick soft. Okay… not soft exactly. But he doesn’t feel like fucking Justin’s brains out by trying to set a new record for how hard Justin can stand Brian fucking him. 

“Is it?” Justin is sweating freely, straining to take more of Brian as he spreads his legs further apart.

Brian trails his hands down Justin’s spine, caressing the flexing muscles as Justin matches his rhythm, and moves in perfect synchronization with him. Leaning forward he covers Justin’s body with his, nuzzling the damp blond hair and nibbling at his nape, but not breaking the steady rolling of his hips as he pushes his dick smoothly into Justin. Taking his time and ignoring Justin’s alternating pleading and threatening sounds, he runs the tip of his tongue down Justin’s back, stopping every so often to suck a light mark along the path. “Yes. It’s not so bad having you underfoot all the time.”

“More like me-under-you all the time,” Justin manages between gulps of air. He reaches behind him, and digs his fingers into Brian’s hip in the hope of bringing them closer.

“I haven’t received any complaints so far.” On the other hand, _nothing_ wrong with fucking Justin’s brains out, especially since Justin seems set on doing his utmost to get Brian to go deeper with every thrust.

“And you’re not going to get any, either. I-…” Justin cries out when Brian speeds up, driving hard into him, aiming for his prostate on purpose and jerking him off at the same time. “I love-… _aaaahhhh_ … _fuckingshitfuck_ … fucking _love_ being under you.” 

“Like this,” Brian grunts. “On all fours, _mine_.”

“Yours.” Justin’s head drops as his orgasm rips through him.

When Brian comes seconds later it’s with Justin’s name in a whisper on his lips, but somehow the one word resonates louder than Justin crying out at the top of his lungs.


	14. Chapter 14

**12 April, Saturday morning, Red Cape Comics**

I know this is going to hurt, and for a moment I wish I hadn’t said anything… wish I can yell ‘I’m kidding, I’m kidding!’ and he will believe me. But the problem is, he won’t. Brian knows me too well, he knows I will never tell him about a fantasy of mine if I’m not serious about wanting it to happen. 

It was all over when he picked me up from where I was sitting on top of the counter and my legs glued themselves around his hips. It all started when he slammed me face first against the wall in the storeroom at Red Cape’s.

With some effort I turn my head sideways. I prefer to enjoy the next couple of minutes with my cheek, instead of my nose, being sand-papered by peeling paint. My eye catches Rage’s, and I smirk at the cardboard figure next to me. Big and huge and larger than life, promising safety and liberty to queers everywhere, and mind blowing sex to JT, the likes of which exists only in gay heaven. Rather than being jealous of my alter ego and run the risk of drawing him soaring off a building when Rage isn’t hovering close by (and give Zephyr a lifetime’s worth of birthday and Christmas presents), I shamelessly seduced the real Rage, salivating for him to fuck me so hard I _will_ actually feel him pushing up into my brain… into _me_ … Deep… I need him so fucking deep he must have difficulty pulling out. Lodged in my ass, forever and ever, amen. 

It’s going to hurt like fuck and I can’t fucking wait.

Brian growls something unintelligent and sinks his teeth into my shoulder. His is humping me against the wall as his hands circle my waist and roughly unzip me. There is only enough distance between our hips as is needed to cup and stroke and rub my balls and cock with his one hand, and push my jeans down and his fingers into my crack with the other. 

Savage… carnal... wild... very, _very_ wild… 

The high infusion of pheromones in the room is palpable, and of course I’m fucking whimpering. I’m scared shitless, and the apprehension is making me so hot and impatient I would fuck me myself if I weren’t so absolutely convinced my obituary would be in tomorrow’s paper if my fingers go anywhere near his dick’s territory.

_Fuckfuckfuck_ , it’s going to hurt… and I can’t avoid it because I don’t want to. Because he isn’t the only one craving to fuck my ass on fire. I might not free jungle-Justin as often as he does beast-Brian, but usually I am not far behind either. _Usually_. Right now I’m not behind at all. He is, his cock dripping with greed behind me.

Savage Brian... carnal Brian… wild Brian… Brian insanely hungry for a hot ass. _My_ hot ass. Listening to me telling him in graphic detail what I wanted him to do to me in the back of the store, to fuck me like I have seen him fuck tricks so many times, drove him crazy. It won’t be the first time he fucks me while I’m digging my nails into brick and plaster, but we don’t do it often. Not _this_ hard. Brian doesn’t like not being able to fuck me for a couple of hours due to my sore ass.

The difference between fucking my brains out while I’m spread against a wall, and fucking some anonymous ass spread in the backroom? With a trick he would have come by now. Once his dick has made its selection, Brian doesn’t lose time with tasting his prey and carefully ensuring he’s ready. 

Except if it’s me.

As hard as he was groping me seconds ago, as soft are the lips brushing and burning over my temple now… gentle fingers combing back my hair… 

My whimpering disappears instantly because I don’t have anything to whimper with. I’ve forgotten how to breathe and what vocal cords are, and it’s only when he grunts in my neck, a raw, guttural sound, that gulps of air flood my lungs. His tongue searches for a, as yet, virgin spot of skin, and finds it on my nape, just beneath my hairline. The same sound rises from him when he collects the ridge of muscle between his teeth, but the pitch has changed… low… dangerous… I close my eyes, anticipating… waiting… bracing myself… Shaking like Brian does at the m-word… Or the l- or r-words, except I’m shivering with want, and he definitely does _not_ want to get married, or be monogamous, or hear me say I love him more than I would love to have the full use of my hand again.

He licks the marks on my neck and shoulder like an animal laps water after having gone for days without it, and I think about Brian’s mother to prevent myself from coming right there. I will not stand… or be on my back or knees or ride his cock fucking myself straddled in his lap… for a repeat of my first night, when he barely closed his fist around my dick before I came. All over him and the sheets and myself, and _oh-fucking-shit_ it was hot. He might have gotten side-tracked when the phone rang, but I know he had the _hardest_ moment, even if it was only for a split second, to decide whether he was going to fuck me first, or get up, get dressed and leave for the hospital immediately. Fatherly instincts won, both for his son waiting at the hospital, and the ‘son’ (he still calls me ‘sonny boy’ every so often) between his legs to not have a hurried, rough and guaranteed _very_ painful first time which would sure as fuck have turned me straight. Since then I came to know the endless pleasures there are in all the endless ways Brian can fuck me, and most important of all, how to hold onto my senses to enjoy those pleasures for at least five minutes before he fucks me into flying higher than Rage can take JT. 

My dick has barely gotten its dignity back when Brian kicks my knees apart and forces my hands above my head. As if I need to be told what to do, since we’re in _my_ fuck-fantasy. My jeans pool around one ankle and dollops of lube race coldly down my crack and over my hole and balls and the condom wrapper rips and he is sheathed and slick and forcing his cock inside me faster than Debbie can chew her gum.

Brian is in full fuck-mode, bending his knees slightly as he wraps an arm around my waist, and the other under my arm and across my chest to fold his hand over my shoulder. It’s not him fucking me. It’s Brian manipulating my body to be and bend and move wherever and however he needs it to fuck himself. It’s like jerking himself off, but instead of his hand, he’s using my ass for the friction and pressure. It’s fucking hot, and I fight not to lose control when his fingers clench on my shoulder, and he yanks me down onto his cock pushing into me.

_Shit_ , it hurts. 

His first thrust is hard enough to lift me up on my tiptoes, and I slump against the wall, him leaning forward and slightly on my back to keep our balance. 

My voice suddenly remembers how to work and I yowl like a wolf at the moon just before he mounts and penetrates his mate. I’m the bottom, but it feels every bit as good as being the alpha male taking what is his. I’m just looking much hotter than he does. The wolf, I mean, not Brian. 

No one can be as hot and sexy and _mine_ as Brian is when he gets this turned on. That’s the only draw-back from being in Michael’s comic book store, no mirrors. But maybe that’s a good thing. I might have learned a lot from training under Brian, but I haven’t quite managed to convince my cock not to be that overeager 17-year old again when watching Brian’s thigh muscles contract and relax in time with the rhythm he is dancing up my ass.

Pumping… slamming… pounding… hammering… everything I ordered. His pubic hair scrapes over my ass and his balls nearly touch mine as he rocks into me with a swinging motion, pushing deeper. Each upward thrust of his hips merges with a synchronized downward pull from his hand on my shoulder.

In spite of the rough ride, I am aware of every nerve and sensation as he insists on going deeper still, in an effort to reach parts of me he has never touched before. 

Deep… Deeper... Impossibly deep… 

I want to spread my legs and open wider. I need him deeper even more than he clearly craves to be. At my attempt to slide my toes sideways he yanks me down on him, hard, anchoring me firmly on my feet. 

Our new position leaves him with less room to drive up my ass and pull back and push higher and slip back and bury inside… But that’s okay too, because I fucking love going fucking insane on his dick when he thrusts-thrusts-thrusts-thrusts- _thrusts_ in fast, sharp bursts, the tip of his cock continuously rubbing over my prostate in short strokes. I know the sensation is as intense for him, the head of his cock not breaking contact, sliding and bumping and driving him as mad as it does me.

My skin stretch under the pressure of his teeth, I take my cue and fist myself, frantically jerking off. We’re going to last two… maybe three seconds…

I don’t know if I cried out, and I don’t remember everything going black around me. I come to my senses, or what’s left of them, disorientated and at first not sure where I am or what happened, until I feel the flames in my ass… and Brian’s arms… and Brian making those incoherent noises I have long ago given up all hope on deciphering...

We’re sitting against the wall, on our bunched up jeans, me between his pulled up legs, but at a 90 degrees angle with his body. I’m fairly upright, kept in place by his arm supporting my back, my left side resting on his chest and my knees draped over his thigh. 

It’s wet where his cum-covered cock is softening against my hip. That’s Brian. Getting rid of the condom quickly, and keeping me close while his cum dries somewhere on my body. Hips, thighs, stomach, back, it doesn’t matter, as long as his cock can share the last of its heat with a part of me.

His arms are wrapped around me more tightly than my ass can ever hope to be, our fingers woven into a complicated pattern on my lower abdomen, just above my dick. His thumb is lazily playing in my pubic hair, slowly curling and uncurling a strand. I don’t even try to prevent my body from pumping blood to my groin.

I can’t feel my left arm, squashed between me and Brian, and I can’t feel my left hand and I can’t find my fingers in the heap of digits and I know I’m going to have a bad case of needles and pins when I finally manage to get all of my left-side limbs back… but I don’t care. I don’t move an inch.

Nothing else matters but him, and if this is how he wants to hold me right now, then this is how I want to be held.

His nose stirs my hair… trails over my temple… nudge the side of my face… I rub the top of my head against his chin like a cat, answering his post-fucking sounds with some of my own. He gently untangles a hand, not the one now playing with my balls, thank God, and cradles my head against his shoulder. That’s just as fucking hot as his hand exploring my crotch and by now my dick has all but forgotten about being exhausted.

“Alright?”

I nod and cuddle deeper under his chin and into his arms. As deep as I can still feel him throbbing inside me. 

“So… Was it all you remembered?”

“And more. It’s a good thing you locked the door. I don’t think Michael would have been impressed with us if we scared his customers away.” I finally manage to separate my hands, placing one over his and instructing it to cup behind my balls, the tip of his fingers just close enough to my hole to be a tease. “He should be back any minute, but while we wait… I have always wondered-“

“Enough.”

“What? What happened to _never_ enough? Don’t tell me the great Brian Kinney is all fucked out after only one-”

“That’s not what I said. I’ve had _enough_ of sitting bare ass on the floor of a fucking storage room. Besides-“ Pleasure seeps from his fingers into my ass, forcing my head back, and my thighs open for him.

He laughs quietly between my lips. “It’s my turn to tell _you_ a story.”


	15. Chapter 15

**12 April, Saturday night, Woody‘s**

“I’ll have another Cosmo, thanks, sweetie.”

Justin flashes a radiant smile at Emmett, and looks questioningly at Ted, who raises his glass of club soda to indicate he doesn’t need a refill.

“You want anything?” he asks Brian, licking a lazy trail up his throat, nudging and nibbling and sucking his ear with soft noises meant only for Brian. ‘I want you’ noises, the ones causing Brian’s body to go almost limp, and his head to drop slightly as goosebumps race down his spine, stirring his cock to life. As if he isn’t hard as fuck already. Justin is sitting on his lap, and restless hands have been teasing Brian ever since they joined Emmett and Ted’s table less than half an hour ago. Not that he is complaining, on the contrary. It’s at his encouragement that Justin’s touch has gradually become more urgent. He has been an enthusiastic participant, and he gave as good as he got; even more so. Up to now Justin has stuck to exploring only visible patches of skin, whereas Brian concentrated on the hidden parts of Justin’s body, the most delicious parts, such as the curve of his back where it disappears under his jeans.

Justin slides his fingers along the neckline of Brian’s wife beater, over his shoulder and around his neck, lightly rubbing the same spot his mouth is claiming behind Brian’s other ear. He grins when Brian turns on cue to kiss him, their tongues lazily playing peekaboo, chasing and catching and chasing again from one pair of lips to the other.

Ted clears his throat loudly. “Em, I think you had better get your drink yourself. That is, if you still want it _tonight_.”

Brian tightens his grip on Justin’s hips, showing no interest in Ted’s remark. His voice is not low, or soft, or diplomatic, or meant to be overheard when he throws the gauntlet. “Your ass.”

“Ever the romantic,” Justin replies with a breathless laugh, tracing the outline of Brian’s bulging hard-on between his thumb and forefinger in a daring display for all of Woody’s to see. 

Justin’s bold move raises giggles from the nearby queens and chuckles from the rest of the bar, which Brian doesn’t give a flying fuck about. He has never been able to intimidate Justin, God only knows how many times he tried. It took a while, but it is finally sinking in Justin _really_ isn’t just a blond Michael. He may physically be under Brian most of the time, but he is _next_ to Brian _all_ the time, by his side, his equal in every way.

He therefore doesn’t mind Justin challenging his reputation, and possibly giving the impression he has managed to get a leg over Brian Kinney. It’s fucking hot… and maybe there is a small chance, a _very_ small chance, he gives a sigh of relief at any and all evidence that Justin can’t keep his hands off him… that he still thinks Brian is hot, the face of God, the most beautiful man he has ever seen. In spite of being _barely_ over thirty, Justin still wants him. Justin… _his._

Let Justin have his fun. When Brian is ready he’ll turn the game around, and look even better in the eyes of the subjects of His Royal Majesty, King Kinney, for putting the little shit in his place... Under Brian, with Brian’s cock thrusting up his ass.

Brian squirms, and Emmett giggles, blue eyes dancing in merriment as he watches Justin stroke the tip of Brian’s cock in small, meaningful circles. Brian isn’t much into wearing underwear on his nights out, and he can imagine what it must feel like to have stiff denim fabric rub over the sensitive head. 

Brian growls something in the crook of Justin’s neck and moves to grab his wrist, but Justin is too quick. His hand shifts its interest deeper between Brian’s legs, treating his balls to the same sweet torture, carefully, with just the right amount of pressure not too irritate the soft skin, but enough to drive Brian out of his mind with wanting his balls cradled in Justin’s palm. Better yet, in his mouth, slipping and sliding as Justin rolls them on his tongue, warming them up and gently breathing over them and warming them up again. Heat spreads through him in the familiar (but _never_ old) flood which Justin has him so addicted to, and ‘helpless’ to resist he pulls the blond bundle of sexual energy closer. A self-satisfied Justin grins into his kiss, and Brian taps an admonishing finger against his chin.

“Looks like he has you by the balls, Bri,” Ted sniggers his amusement at Justin’s blatant taunting. “I don’t know how you do it, keeping up with someone so _young_ , with so much _stamina_.”

Okay, that’s getting dangerously close to crossing from playing with his partner to having to prove who is still The Top in this miserable excuse for a city. Brian casts Ted a warning glare. “I have no trouble keeping _up_ with anyone.”

“I don’t know, Brian,” Emmett says thoughtfully, frowning as he leans back to give Brian a scrutinizing once-over. “You do seem a tad tired these days. Sweetie, you should really let him get some rest. When you reach his age-”

“Fuck you, Honeycutt.”

“I’m serious! My Aunt Lula always said-“

Justin starts to laugh and Brian slaps his ass indignantly. “Whose fucking side are you on?”

“Yours. I _love_ you on your side, behind me, fucking me...” Justin trails off with an evocative stare and a wicked smile, closing his hand firmly over Brian’s dick in a slow stroke. Brian shifts restlessly, vividly reminded of how he fucked Justin a couple of days ago. It was fucking hot, especially the second time when they moved to the bed and Brian could thrust hard, not hampered by being caught between Justin and the back of the couch while pushing his cock into Justin. Not to say fucking him on the couch wasn’t hot either. Shit, he almost came just from feeling his knuckles sliding past Justin’s clenching ring of muscle.

“Good boy,” he murmurs, and swirls his tongue around the small hollow at the base of Justin’s throat. He recognizes the signals, Justin coaxing him to get hard beyond the point of leaving Woody’s without Justin paying for his shameless behavior first.

“I like waking up with you inside me,” Justin whispers conspiratorially, and slides his arms around Brian’s neck as he leans against his chest. Strong hands encircle his sides, slip under his t-shirt and into the waistband at the back of his jeans. “I liked it even more when you did that thing with your fingers.”

“You’re always this eloquent? _Thing?_ ”

“Only when I have your cock trying to fuck my hip in the middle of Woody’s,” Justin answers, wiggling against Brian’s groin, and earning himself another slap on the ass.

“That’s our Brian,” Emmett calls out in a sing-song voice, swinging his cocktail with flare in a toast to a scowling Brian, before dramatically draining his glass. “Always ready to fuck anything that will keep still for ten minutes. Just a shame the rest of you looks ready to fall asleep – no offence, honey,” he quickly adds apologetically, not meaning to insult Justin by implying he isn’t man enough to keep more than Brian’s dick awake and interested.

Justin dismisses the comment with a distracted wave, staring intently at Brian. “You want to go home? It’s true, we haven’t been sleeping much-“

“I am _not_ fucking tired and I’m _not_ fucking old and I can fuck all fucking night long, if I want.”

“You want to talk about the other night when you fell asleep while-“

Brian smothers Justin’s mouth with a rough kiss. 

“Now _this_ sounds interesting. We want to hear _everything_ , don’t we, Teddy!”

“Oh, absolutely. Every _tiny_ detail,” Ted says with an eager nod and a toothy grin as he leans forward over the table. “ _And_ all the _big_ details.”

Brian digs his nails into Justin’s ass cheeks, reinforcing the warning in his voice when he growls Justin’s name. Justin blinks innocently, twirling a lock of Brian’s hair around his finger, and shrugs. “I told you it’s no _big_ deal, it happens to everyone your age.” He presses an exaggerated chaste kiss to Brian’s temple, and gently strokes the side of his face, like he would his grandfather. “I was really looking forward to having you fuck me again, and then you just fell asleep. Just like that. Worn out and exhausted-“

Brian pushes Justin off his lap, slides out of the booth and holds out his hand. “Come.”

“I was trying to, but you-“

“I’m going to fuck you, _right_ here, _right_ now.“

Ted’s mouth falls open, his eyes darting between a very determined looking Brian, and Justin’s disbelieving face. “Brian, you can’t seriously-“

“I don’t mean _here!_ The _men’s room_ , Theodore.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Justin scoots deeper into the booth, away from Brian. “You promised me not again. It was fucking embarrassing, the way-“

Emmett and Ted burst into fits of laughter, drowning out Justin’s huffy voice. They were all in Woody’s the night Brian fucked Justin so hard against the partition the stall came crashing down around them. Brian managed to stay on his feet, but Justin was caught off balance and staggered forward. Brian grabbed his shirt at the last minute, preventing Justin from heading for the floor face first. He kept both of them upright, and somehow even got their pants back on. Of course the noise was deafening, and within seconds the bathroom was crowding with horny gay men, not sure whether they should salivate, or laugh. As hot as it was to know Brian literally fucked Justin off his feet, it also earned Justin giggles and grins for a long time afterwards.

“Tell you what.” Justin takes Brian’s still outstretched hand and pulls himself up. “You can blow me.”

“What?”

“You can blow me. It takes much more _energy_ and _stamina_ to give a blow job than to just stand there, not doing anything but come. If you’re _up_ for it, blow me.”

Brian is silent for a moment, hazel eyes locked with defying blue ones. Emmett and Ted are on the edge of their seats, watching enthralled while Brian weighs his options. There aren’t a lot of them. Justin really does have him by the balls on this one. Usually when he blows Justin it’s at home, since Brian is still top of the ‘burgh in every way outside of the loft, and being on his knees in front of anyone, even his partner, in full view of the whole of the gay community is not his style. However, the digs and puns and jabs at his age and ability to perform, whether fucking or sucking, will never cease if he refuses. “Alright.”

Justin’s smirk is triumphant and inwardly Brian groans. Maybe it is worth it to rather be the butt-end of everyone’s jokes into all eternity than having to deal with a power-drunk Justin.

Turning to Ted and Emmett, Justin whispers loudly, “This may take a while, I’ll see you guys later.”

That’s _it_. 

Brian grabs Justin around the waist, throws him over his shoulder, and with his cargo struggling and complaining at the top of his voice marches off to the bathroom. “Out,” he commands the three men inside and with big eyes and gaping mouths they scurry to the door.

Brian enters a stall, slams the door behind him, and lowers Justin to the floor.

Justin’s breathing hard, eyes on fire. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why-” Automatically he takes a step back when Brian moves closer. His back hits the partition, leaving him with nowhere to go. 

Brian kicks his knees apart, pushes a leg between them and rests his hands on either sides of Justin’s face. His mouth is inches from Justin’s, his eyes unreadable, with a weird expression that makes Justin want to both flee, getting far away from the heat pressing in from all sides, and beg and plead and scream and beg some more for Brian to fuck him. _Hard. Again_ … which is just not a good idea. Neither he nor his ass have forgotten their morning in Red Cape’s storage room… _was so fucking hot_ … But he will really not be able to walk for a week if Brian does anything like that to him again so soon.

All moisture is gone from his mouth and only pathetic croaking noises come out when he tries to speak. The more he does, the more his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth while all rational thought seeps away under the stall door. 

He is left with his senses on high alert, every possible alarm and siren and bell screaming to get the fuck _out_ if he values his ass at all… But there’s the want… his desire… need… Christ, he needs Brian. _Needs_ to feel his hands and taste his cock and hear his heart beat and get lost in his eyes when he buries himself in Justin. _Needs_ to see and taste and feel again and again and again and a thousand times over and then some more that it means as much to Brian as it does to him, every time he spreads his legs… wide open… inviting… giving… asking Brian to share the places in his soul he doesn’t ever show anyone else.

Justin remains standing, memories, emotions and hazel eyes chasing away all plans of fighting Brian on whatever deep shit trouble it is Justin got himself into. Without thinking he reaches out to touch what is _his_ … what has _always_ been his… entrusted to _him_ … He runs his fingers along Brian’s jaw, and cradling his face he slowly sweeps his thumb over the resolute mouth. Fuck, he loves him… Everything Kinney, with his bullshit, and being fucked up. All of him. _Every fucking thing_ … He practically worships the ground Brian’s Prada boots walk on… The loft’s hardwood floor when Brian wanders around bare feet, his jeans pooling over his ankles and with only his toes peeking out... Jesus, he loves his toes… the small scar on his left knee… the ticklish spot halfway up his inner thigh… his cock… 

Brian grabs his hands before they can unbuckle him, and pins Justin’s arms above his head. “My turn, remember?” he says in a silky voice, the nose nuzzling Justin’s cheek and brushing down the side of his face deceptively gentle. 

With wobbly knees and a throbbing erection Justin shivers excitedly. He doesn’t resist when Brian licks up his throat and over his chin, greedily opening his mouth long before Brian’s tongue has the chance to insist on entering.

“Now you just _stand_ there-” 

Justin’s breath rushes from him when Brian yanks his fly open and his cock out in one fluent movement, much more aggressively than he expected. Worry instantly replaces the excitement, knotting his stomach, and he swallows nervously. “Brian-“

“-And don’t do anything but _come_ -” Brian shoves his jeans down over his hips and cups his balls firmly. “-Until _I_ say you can stop.”

“Bri- _fuck!_ ” Justin has no warning, no time to prepare before Brian sucks him into his mouth, _all_ of him. His cock hits the back of Brian’s throat and he jerks violently when Brian swallows hard, causing his throat to clench tight around the swollen head. “ _Fucking-shit-oh-god-oh-fuck-Brian!_ “

Over the rush in his ears Justin can hear his voice bouncing off the tiled-walls, but he is unable to turn down the volume of the sounds gushing from him. If anything he groans louder, his hands scrambling for something to hold onto before his legs give out. Brian’s one hand clamps high on his ass, the splayed fingers on the small of his back guiding his franticly thrusting hips.

“ _Shit… aahhh… Bri-.fuckfuckfuck… don’t- fuuuck!_ ”

Brian flattens his tongue and licks a wide path up Justin’s dick. Two fingers finds the spot behind Justin’s sac which always makes him loose his senses within seconds, rubbing hard. At the same time he grips Justin’s dick and pushes the tip of his tongue into his slit. Justin comes on the second onslaught, slamming his fists into the partition behind him repeatedly; groaning, grunting, spewing nonsense as he surges onto and over Brian’s slurping tongue.

… _Fucking intense_ … Justin slumps, expecting Brian to catch him and hold him as he always does, but a no-nonsense hand presses against his chest, forcing him upright again.

“You can’t- fuck _I_ can’t-“ Justin’s thoughts scramble. Brian has taken him deep into his mouth again, at the same time shoving a finger up his ass.

This time Justin adds the thrashing of his head against the side of the stall to the cacophony of sounds. He desperately clutches Brian’s hair. Maybe, if he pulls hard enough, Brian will let go, and let him recuperate in peace, instead of turning him into a quivering mess, unable to feel his toes and feet and legs as his over stimulated nerves short-circuit repeatedly.

Brian slides Justin’s cock in and out over his tongue, encouraging him to fuck his mouth. Two fingers curl over his prostate again and again and again in keeping with Justin’s hips thrusting hard down Brian’s throat. He shudders and squeezes his ass when Brian pushes deep inside him.

Brian unzips his pants and grabs himself, jerking off with quick strokes. Feeling Justin’s muscles tugging at his fingers… Tasting him as his dick smears trails of cum on the insides of Brian’s mouth… running down the back of his throat… every taste bud on his tongue going crazy…

Justin arches and comes with a strangled moan as Brian shoots white ribbons all over himself. It’s going to be a bitch to clean up and look half-way decent again, but it doesn’t matter. Justin’s cries definitely reached the waiting ears at the bar. It is no secret what they were doing in the men’s room, and trying to hide the evidence now is completely futile.

"Shit, Brian," Justin gulps air between dry lips, willing his trembling body to relax.

Brian gets up with a groan but Justin is too shaken up to comment. Falling forward he buries his face in Brian's neck, cuddling closer when Brian immediately gathers him in his arms.

"Fuck, that was amazing.“

"I'm glad you approve.“

"I'm not sure I can walk.“

"Want me to carry you again?"

"On second thought, nothing wrong with my legs.” Justin's hand crawls around Brian's neck, weakly tangling in the sweaty hair. "Brian?"

"Mmm?"

"Take me home."

"Tired?“

"After only _that_? You've taken care of my cock, now it's time for my ass.“

Brian laughs and leads Justin out of the men's room amidst howls and cat calls and whistling. Ted gives a dry ‘Bravo!‘ above Emmett’s applause. Brian smirks, and drapes his arms from behind over Justin‘s shoulders and chest. "If you’ll excuse us, boys, _Justin_ is exhausted and has begged me to take him home.“ Brian grins at a flushed Justin, and kisses the upturned nose before finishing the last of his abandoned whiskey in one gulp.

Ted snorts, and mutters something into his glass. He promptly chokes.

“Problem, Theodore?“

A breathless and flushed Ted shakes his head, and Brian turns to leave.

Emmett quickly pulls Justin into a hug. “I assume it was as good as it sounded?“ he whispers, eyes on an impatient Brian waiting by the door.

Justin gives a shaky laugh. “Better,“ he calls over his shoulder with a wink, hastily following Brian outside.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chaper is a bit different. It _comes_ with an unsafe sex and DQ!Brian warning.

**13 April, Sunday morning, the loft**

He’s beautiful. Goddamn fucking perfect.

Brian swallows thickly, caught off guard by the sudden tightness in his chest, and the knot in his stomach. This is _not_ usually his reaction when Justin is spread naked against a wall, ass tilted, thigh muscles straining in preparation for Brian to lift him on his tip toes, and in between the perfect ass cheeks his hole, even though Brian can’t see it _yet_ , open and waiting for him to be inside. 

Taking shallow breaths through a gritted jaw, Brian grabs his own cock. Well, shit, thank whatever-the-fuck, at least he is still hard.

"Brian." Husky voice, one word. Dripping and begging and urging with hunger and desire and ra-… so much fucking _raw_ need.

Brian can’t remember moving his feet, but he must have because Justin is spinning like a cat under his hands. And fuck if _he_ isn’t purring as well, tangling his fingers in the blond hair as if he’s never been this close to Justin before. 

He slides his palms down the perfectly curved spine… perfectly arched for him to lean on… to fold over… to hold onto… The pressure in his chest increases when his touch reaches the rounding of Justin’s ass, squashing his heart with anticipation. His hands spread, thumbs meeting at the top of Justin’s crack, fingers splayed around the pale cheeks. The line of Justin’s hips tapering to his waist pleads for some thorough exploration, which he does, salivating, before hunting for ribs hiding under flawless skin… Perfect skin... 

Jesus. He is fucking cooing worse than a romance novel (cheap or otherwise, or price winning and turned into a movie, there are no fucking good kinds), whereas he should be gripping Justin’s hips, _hard_ , and fuck him and be inside him and come and-

Brian pulls Justin's cheeks apart, more roughly than he intended, and much more carefully fit the lubed length of his cock along the created crevice. His hips pick up a lazily thrust, sliding up and down, the unsheathed head hesitating each time at Justin's entrance… each time longer… each time pushing harder… each time wanting more…

Feels fucking fabulous… he can do this forever. Especially since Justin has taken over the cooing, which is kind of sexy, in a non-conventional way.

His hands return to running up and down Justin’s spine… patches of skin disappearing between his fingers… reappearing from under his palms... It is going to take him forever to kiss every bit, but _trying_ to is definitely going on his lists of things to do for Justin.

A muscled shoulder flexes under his tongue... thin sheen of sweat… tastes so fucking good… not muscled in the same way he is built, but perfect... Perfect for his mouth to claim, all the way from the outside of Justin’s shoulder to his collarbone… Perfect for his teeth to sink into, square inch per square inch, until Brian can be sure he has licked and sucked and bit all of Justin. And then he can start all over again, until forever.

The heat spreading from his groin lessens the blockage to his lungs somewhat, and he takes a deep breath, only to lose it immediately when Justin pushes back on his next thrust with perfect timing, meeting Brian’s dick with enough force to cradle the sensitive tip.

“Justin.” Brian doesn’t recognize his voice, hoarse and low and croaking. His throat is dry and he still can’t seem to get enough air. It’s only when his fingers share the sticky wetness his cock has smeared all over Justin’s hole that he realizes his hips have changed angle and, firmly guided by his hand, are focused on getting inside Justin, _quickly_. He should have been sliding in and out of the eager little ass long before any cooing started. "What do you want?" Progress. A whisper is better than sounding like a frog, but he can’t wait until he is capable of normal speech again. He won’t be able to hold out forever, and it’s a question that must be asked. Now. Right fucking _now_.

"You," Justin chokes. "Fuck. Brian, you! All of you!"

"You're sure?" Croaking again, but he can live with it if he sounds even half as hot as Justin does.

"I want your cock up my ass. _Just_ your cock. I want to feel you fuck me so deep- _aaahhh_!"

He tries not to think. His senses are on overload, and he’s gulping air with more difficulty than ever. Thinking about being inside Justin… surrounded by Justin _only_ … no latex… leaving streaks of his cum inside Justin as he thrusts… He would prefer to enjoy the experience for at least a minute before shooting up Justin’s-… _fuuuuuck_ … Breathe… just the fuck _breathe_. 

Justin’s body is fighting him, more than usual, his ass refusing to grant him passage. The taut skin over the tip of Brian’s dick is held back… stretched… clutched at… too much friction… His cry resonates with Justin’s when he shoves hard. 

Time stops when Brian does, lodged just beyond Justin’s entrance. He is sweating freely, and resting his head on Justin’s shoulder, he struggles to keep the throbbing under control. He is on fire, as is Justin. He kisses the writhing back, holding Justin in a close embrace, stroking his chest and abdomen in an effort to calm him down since the reassuring frog noises Brian is making doesn’t seem to work.

Justin slumps against the wall, whispering Brian’s name over and over while weaving their fingers in a painful grip.

 _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!_ Why the _fuck_ did he ever agree to this? Justin is hurting, and it’s all because of him. Why the _fuck_ didn’t he at least insist on fucking raw _horizontally_? Justin shivers, and cursing himself Brian moves to pull out, very, very, _very_ carefully.

“No!”

“I’m not doing this. _Shit!_ I don’t-“ Debbie is going to fucking kill him, _slowly_ , after cutting off his dick first. Her ‘Sunshine,’ his poor perfect partner, dead from trying to ride 9 ½ inches of steel, bareback.

“I’m _fine_. Just give me a sec, okay? It hurts, but not more than usual. I’m okay. It’s… _Jesus_ … feeling you, really _feeling_ you for the first time… it’s a bit much.” Justin reaches over his shoulder to tug on a cluster of Brian’s hair, turning partially around to meet his mouth half-way. “Brian, please. I want this. I want _you_. I want to feel you come inside me. More than anything.”

Brian clamps his hands around Justin’s hips, making sure he keeps them perfectly still as he kisses him, keeping it slow, until Justin’s body is relaxed enough to his liking, and his is even harder. Where’s a soft dick when you need one?

“You’re sure?” At least he sounds like his usual hot self. 

“Yes.” 

He gradually pushes in, holding back until he is as far up Justin’s ass as he possibly can be without slamming into him. “Alright?” He frees one hand to comb back the blond hair, and brushes his lips over what he can reach of Justin’s temple… the one on the right… the one with the scar. Sweat is dripping down tangled strands, collecting on Justin’s forehead, and running down the side of his face. He tastes fucking fantastic. Briefly Brian considers licking Justin from his drooping head to curling toes first, lap up the salty promise of sex, and then start the proceedings over again.

“Shit, yes.”

Justin’s voice is barely audible, and Brian feels more than hears the unwavering response. Justin is trying to open wider… spreading his legs… rising up… 

"Fuck, Justin, keep... " Brian grunts, grimacing as he struggles not to lose control. "Keep the fuck still, I can't-" His arm tightens around Justin's waist, the other reaches across Justin’s chest to anchor on his shoulder, and with a groan of intense pleasure Brian thrusts hard while at the same time yanking Justin down on him.

Justin cries out and, falling forward against the wall as much as Brian’s embrace allows, he gives his body over. It’s the most indescribable feeling, Justin willing Brian to take what he wants, not just letting him, but _willing_ him to. 

_…It’s not him fucking Justin... It’s manipulating Justin’s body to be and bend and move wherever and however he needs it to fuck himself... It’s like jerking himself off, but instead of his hand, he’s using Justin’s ass for the friction and pressure._

Like he did in the back of the storage room at the Red Cape…

… _Not right_ … It shouldn’t be this way. He shouldn’t be using Justin, not _ever_ , for _anything_ , but especially not while fucking him raw, with them joined and merged into each other like they have never been before. He tries to lessen his grip on Justin’s hips, allowing him to move out of his own accord, but the body under his is unresponsive.

“ _Yours_ ,” Justin breathes, and reaches back to seize Brian’s thighs with his fingers, digging hard as he pulls Brian close… _too_ close. Brian’s left with no other option but to accept Justin as an extension of himself, to ride and fuck as he needs to.

_…His balls nearly touch Justin’s as he rocks into him with a swinging motion… pushing deeper... Each upward thrust of his hips merges with a synchronized downward pull from his hand on Justin’s shoulder…_

Like he did in the back of the storage room at the Red Cape…

In spite of the wild ride, he is aware of every nerve and sensation as he insists on going deeper still, in an effort to reach parts of Justin he has never touched before. 

Justin… stretching over him… closing around him once he’s inside, forcing him to stay… opening to make room for him where it’s warmer and wetter than he has ever realized with the condom on… movement all around him… Justin's ass clenching… continuous stroking and rubbing over the tip of Brian's cock…

Deep… Deeper... Impossibly deep…

_…It’s my turn to tell you a story…_

A warm mouth swallows his balls and Brian murmurs his appreciation as he tightens his embrace around Justin. His hips stop pumping abruptly when the pressure around his balls shifts to his crack and involuntarily his thigh muscles resist when two hands gently urge him to open his legs. The hands ask again, and he relaxes, grunting as a skilful tongue swirls over his hole. Tangling his fingers in Justin’s hair…

_What the fuck?_

Brian’s eyes fly open, and Justin chuckles. “I was beginning to worry you were going to miss out _again_.”

Brian blinks in bewilderment, opening his mouth and closing it again when he can’t think of a witty reply. He blocks the urgent messages from his cock with difficulty, and tries to orientate himself without Justin noticing. They are most _definitely_ not in the Red Cape, and most _definitely_ not against a wall, and most _definitely_ not fucking, raw or otherwise. He rubs his eyes, and doesn’t take his hands away before he feels fully in control again. Or as much as he can be in control with a very determined Justin between his legs. It was most _definitely_ Justin he dreamt about, that much is clear. The little twat don’t easily take ‘no’ for an answer, especially when it comes to fucking. Not in dreams or reality. 

Holy shit, that was some fucking dream, fucking Justin raw… but it wasn’t just about the fucking, and that’s even more upsetting. All the emotions and sensations and need come crashing down with a burning intensity, and a strangled sound escapes from him when Justin pushes the tips of his fingers against Brian’s hole. Desperate? Fuck. Him? Fucking _desperate_? To feel and touch and taste Justin… _all_ of Justin? To be that close… _Him_?

 _“I want you safe. I want you around for a long time.”_ His words from so long ago echo through his already overcrowded brain, and his discomfort increases. Exactly. Nothing has changed, he will _not_ fuck Justin bareback. Now more than ever he wants him around for a long time. And what’s with the Red Cape shit? Granted, yesterday morning was fucking hot and he almost blacked out with Justin, but still, _what the fuck?_

“Roll over,” Justin orders with a light slap to Brian’s thigh, offering him a welcome respite from his fruitless efforts to put his mind and body back together.

It appears Justin has finally decided to make good on their rimming-bet. Briefly Brian considers fighting him on principle, make him work for it, but really… he doesn’t want to. The dream (so much for getting distracted) has shaken him up more than he wants to admit to himself, for all sorts of reasons, and most of them are not the _right_ ones. He hasn’t realized how much he wanted… he never even thought about _it_ , why the fuck he dreamt… he could have stayed inside forever…

_Fuck!_

He can’t stand this fucking tightness in his chest and the knot in his stomach any longer. Justin had better make him come within much less than ten minutes, and it had better be fucking good. Mind-blowing enough that he won’t have any energy left but to go back to sleep, and won’t dream, and won’t be able to think about something other than fucking Justin deeper than he did yesterday.

_…I want your cock up my ass. Just your cock…_

Desire and shame ricochets through him and he flings himself stomach first on the bed, burying his face in a pillow and clenching blue sheets. It was so fucking hot… _way_ too fucking hot. If Justin _ever_ found out…

A soft palm strokes his back and he stills. Justin’s ‘it’s okay, trust me’ touch, the one he always uses when Brian gets too toppy when Justin takes the initiative.

_…Spreads his hands, thumbs meeting at the start of Justin’s crack…_

Justin’s fingers push between his cheeks and closing his eyes Brian forces his body to relax, to concentrate on the pleasure Justin is licking into his ass. Which, really, isn’t all that _hard_ to do. Not with his balls rolling in Justin’s hand and Justin’s spit running down his crack.

Brian pulls his knees up under him, lifting his hips and offering himself to Justin. Warm hands cup his cheeks, kneading the stretched muscles as Justin’s tongue curls inside him. Brian groans and drops his head onto his forearms.

“Jerk me off.” He knows technically Justin loses the bet if Brian comes from anything but just a tongue in his ass, but he can’t give a flying fuck. What he needs is a fucking fabulous orgasm, one that will drive the swirling dream fragments out of his cock and out of his life. Fuck his pride and fuck the bet and fuck ten minutes.

Justin hesitates and Brian pushes back against him, rising on his elbows to make room for Justin to grip his dick from behind. The thrusting tongue is back inside him, but Justin is just holding his cock. No stroking, no friction, just fucking torture.

“Will you please come to the party with me?” Justin slowly rubs Brian’s pre-cum down his dick, sliding his hand up and down but not nearly as fast or as hard as Brian needs.

“Yes. Just get me the fuck off,” Brian grits through clenched teeth. He heaves half a sigh, half a moan when Justin’s grip firms around him, and he tongue fucks Brian with the same rhythm with which his fingers are dancing over Brian’s slit.

His body convulses, abdominal muscles clenching and forcing his spine into an arch as everything shimmers around him, before being washed away by waves of intense release. He comes hard, like he needed to, shuddering as spasm after spasm explodes through him. Falling onto his side he keeps his legs pulled up against his stomach, and bunches the pillow back under his cheek. His hand searches for Justin’s, and tugs until Justin is spooned behind him. Loosely weaving their fingers he presses his lips against Justin’s knuckles, and holds their hands over his heart. His breathing is shaky, but at least he is breathing more easily.

“What were you dreaming about?” Justin asks, alternating between nuzzling, sucking and kissing Brian’s shoulder.

“What?”

“Dreaming. You were saying my name.”

Brian clutches the pillow, staring ahead and not seeing anything, but feeling _everything_ again. “You,” he says quietly. “Inside me.”

Justin goes completely still, except for the fingers tightening in Brian’s hair. “You dreamt I was fucking you?”

In answer Brian reaches for the lube and condoms on the nightstand and passes it over his shoulder, still not looking at Justin. He’s scared, fucking terrified of what Justin might see in his eyes, that he might recognize the raw need.

 _…It’s my turn to tell you a story…_ Such a careless promise. Brian didn't tell Justin any stories or fantasies when they got back to the loft yesterday. Michael came in shortly after they got dressed and he distracted Justin enough that he forgot to ask Brian about it. Or maybe he didn't forget. Maybe he doesn't need to ask. Maybe he already knows a fantasy of his is also Brian’s… which is why he can _never_ find out-

“Brian?” Justin knows Brian’s body language well enough to recognize something is different. Not wrong exactly, just… When Brian ‘asks’ Justin to fuck him, it’s by handing him a condom, and shaking his head when Justin reaches out to put it on him. “Look at me,” Justin says gently, leaning over Brian to cup his chin.

For a second Brian resists, but then he exhales resolutely and, turning on his back, locks his fingers behind Justin’s head. His tongue is slow on Justin’s lips, the softest of touches, and Justin gasps. Brian’s making out kisses. He wants to be fucked, but instead of going into a frenzy, he’s set on them devouring each other with agonizing slowness first. One leg moves over Justin’s lap to the outside of his thigh, encircling him between Brian’s knees… a strong hand guiding his down to Brian’s balls… behind his balls… pushing his fingers inside Brian…

“I want-“ Brian bites his lip and, eyes fleeing before scrutinizing blue ones, buries his face in Justin’s neck. “I _need_ you to fuck me.”

_…need to feel something of what you would feel if I ever…_


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song lyrics used is from the Club Babylon CD, ‘Home Offer Nissim Remix.’ If you’ve got it, I’d suggest listen to it first… and listen again when you read the fic…

**14 April, Monday evening, Daphne’s apartment**

Daphne can’t remember ever having seen Justin this happy, excluding the prom. That was an event of so much awesomeness she always considers it separated from all their highlights, before or after. Besides, Justin still has no recall of the dance so technically it can’t go on the list. Fortunately since then there has been so much more awesomeness of which they both _do_ have memories off. 

There is always the for-shit stuff, but those are hardly worth thinking about. Their happy times _so_ overshadow the bad ones, and she has been there every step of the way, seen Justin’s smile come and go. If nothing else she could offer him a place to crash when one or both of them were being stubborn and stupid, and the loft became too small for two idiots.

With a smile Daphne leans against the kitchen/dining room/living room counter, slowly slipping her drink and watching her best friend and his gorgeous partner dance. If rubbing up against one another like that can be called dancing. They are positively glowing, and the focus point of the entire room. 

She has no doubt all the attention is exactly what Brian intended. They arrived promptly on time; Brian’s time, that is. Late enough to not get lost in the crowd by showing up as part of a big group of people, early enough to still catch everyone sober enough to gawk at the hotness walking through the door. Men, woman, gay and straight alike have hardly been able to take their eyes off the couple, more so because neither of the two is aware of anyone or anything besides each other.

Daphne saw them fleetingly when they came into the apartment, got something to drink, and ended up in the middle of the living room. They haven’t moved since except from swaying to the music, and kissing and groping non-stop. If she wasn’t so sure Brian would literally take her up on the invitation, she would have told them to get a room.

She never doubted for a moment that they would eventually end up together. Justin’s romance with Ethan lasted longer that she thought (or hoped) it would. She didn’t like the violinist, but if being with Ethan made Justin happy, she was happy for him. However, she couldn’t help noticing Justin never smiled quite as wide while he was with Ethan, than he did for Brian. Ethan’s true colors came out, so to speak, and as sorry as she was for her friend hurting (which wasn’t that long anyway), so glad was she a thousand… a _million_ times over when Justin told her he and Brian were back together. She cried even more than he did. God, she has never seen anyone look so out of touch with the existence of mere mortals than Brian did, the first time she saw them again. Justin was right there on cloud nine in his partner’s arms, and she loved watching them, her happiness mirroring Justin’s. She was, and still is, convinced there has never been a more perfect example of _true_ romance.

The thought makes her snigger. Heaven forbids Brian finds out what her opinion is about the two of them. He will never take her shopping again.

Justin laughs at something Brian says, jerking his head sideways, and her grin grows as she recognizes his reaction. Whatever Brian has said is accompanied by a bite to Justin’s ear or neck or throat, or a long lick to his temple or cheek. The brief struggle causes them to turn sideways and momentarily she can see Justin’s face clearly, the love and adoration unmistakable as he pulls Brian’s head down to his. She can’t see his eyes this far across the dimly lit room, but she doesn’t have to. They are guaranteed to be even bluer than when he broke the news that Brian has finally asked him to move in.

That piece of information nearly caused another ‘Great Separation,’ potentially fatal this time. Of course Justin was torn in two. The Hollywood-Rage thing couldn’t have happened at a worse time, given their history. Brian, once again, went through all sorts of creative ways to show he was _not_ waiting for Justin to come home, but by then she and Brian had struck up a comfortable friendship, and Daphne wasn’t backing down from Brian’s scowling and ‘get the fuck out of my business.’ She finally succeeded in convincing him to visit Justin in LA just before they heard he was coming home. Justin arrived a couple of weeks ago, and ever since, as friend and normal human being, he is absolutely useless. From the look of things she’d say Brian isn’t far behind. Unless it’s Brian she talks to Justin about, he just completely zones out, and if she takes too long to bring the subject back to Brian, he’ll interrupt with a dreamy expression and an out of the blue, nonsense comment about ‘Brian this’ or ‘Brian that’ or ‘Brian did.’ She couldn’t be happier, and doesn’t mind indulging him at all. There have been too many tears to begrudge the exchange of Hollywood stars in Justin’s eyes for his eyes sparkling for Brian only.

She pushes away from the counter and makes her way over. “Having fun, boys?” She asks, and bumps Brian’s hip with hers.

“If it isn’t the birthday girl,” Brian says in his most sarcastic ‘I’m so excited’ voice, but the hazel eyes smile warmly at her when he drapes his arm around her shoulders and kisses her cheek. She blushes. After all these years she still does whenever Brian turns on his legendary charm. “Kick- _ass_ party,” he adds, grabbing Justin’s ass to illustrate his point.

“Happy birthday, Daph.” Justin kisses her other cheek and swats Brian’s hand away. Brian lunges for him, but Justin anticipated it and ducks behind Daphne with a giggle.

“Oh no, you don’t!” She steps away from Justin just in time to avoid being crushed between them. Brian firmly grips Justin’s thighs, yanking their hips together and kissing him hard. Laughing, Justin throws his arms around Brian’s neck and kisses him back with just as much enthusiasm.

Daphne rolls her eyes and turns in search of better company. She’s not going to get any intelligent conversation out of either of them, and she’s totally okay with that.

***

_Justin PoV_

Brian runs his tongue between my lips, flicking it inside every so often. The smile merging with mine is meant for me only, and my heart takes a deep breath, misses a couple of beats and leaves me shaking inside when it picks up some sort of rhythm again.

_So beautiful…_

I reach up and cup his face, my thumb tracing the upward curve of his lips. He chuckles, turns his head into my palm, and kisses my thumb. My mouth falls open and I stare at him. Brian has always been tactile, but there is touching and _touching_. _Touching_ is usually reserved for the loft, for which I’m almost glad since it sends my mind on holiday and the subsequent things I want to do to him… what I want him to do to _me… not_ suitable viewing even for Babylon, let alone a birthday party. 

Especially not _Daphne’s_ party. 

The last thing I want to do is cause my best friend the embarrassment of having to explain ‘no, the sounds _coming_ from the bedroom are not a porn DVD with the volume turned to the highest setting.’ 

_If_ we make it to the bedroom… If Brian keeps this up I will be forced to drag him by the hair to the nearest corner, sink to my knees and suck his cock, while jerking myself off, all within the next couple of minutes.

Brian, of course, knows all this. He knows my every button, when to do what to turn me into an animal or a bowl of Jell-O. I don’t mind either way since the end result will be the same… him inside me… me under him… me inside him… him beside me… _us_ …

He bites the end of my nose and ants crawl over my skin. ‘Play’ button. Jesus, I love a teasing Brian, when he laughs with so much abandon it could qualify for giggling. Not that I will ever tell him he sounds like a love-struck seventeen-year old when I tickle him, or how much I love seeing the make-believe scowl disappear, and be able to play and laugh and love with _all_ of Brian. Body and soul. Not keeping any secrets… not hiding from me… not throwing me out of the loft when someone says ‘partner’ or ‘couple’… willing to at least acknowledge he does _feel_ more than his dick go hard when we’re together…

We are always kidding around in public, but it is mostly in the loft, when it’s only us, that he doesn’t worry about being happy in a manner totally unbefitting (in his opinion) the CEO of Kinnetik… or care about causing his reputation irrefutable damage by being found kissing my thumb and not just sucking it…

Since my return from LA however, he has been leaving more and more of his legendary masks at home, and the human-Brian is now often seen smiling unabashed at his adoring partner, no matter where we are. It isn’t just big gestures of sexual prowess, or small ones of affection anymore, and it’s incredibly hot. Holding my hand in the middle of a busy street, my fingers clasped securely between his, turns me on so much that we’re always late. I can only stand it for so long before grabbing him by the belt to find some place _fast_ for him to fuck me from behind… thrusting… pushing deep... my hand on his thigh feeling the rolling of his hips as he pulls out almost all the way before burying inside me again…

I watch the sparkling eyes turn dark with mischief, his low chuckle taking on the undertone that guarantees ‘deep shit trouble’ for one Justin Taylor, with emphasis on the _deep_. I know what his next move is going to be and I let go of his hair to push him away. I’m too slow (maybe I could have tried a little harder), and his arm tightens around my waist, pinning my elbow to my side. Struggling with Brian, using lots of pelvic movements, is usually the objective of this particular exercise, and I follow my script enthusiastically while trying to keep him from immobilizing my other arm as well. 

Without much difficulty (okay, so I _really_ could have tried a little harder) he closes a grip around my wrist, and laces our fingers with his palms on top (of course) of my hands. We’re chest to chest as he forces my arms behind me and my palms flat on my lower back. There is something very sexy about being 'forced' to grope my own ass, our fingers at the same time playing with each other, and I have long since stop fighting. Of much more interest is his unbuttoned shirt inches from my face. I nudge the soft material aside with my nose, and follow the neck line of the black wife beater with my tongue, down from his one shoulder, up the other. 

The strain on my biceps lessens somewhat, and with our arms encircling me he slowly slips two sets of glued-together hands under my shirt... strokes my ass... crosses on my spine… up and down with increasing pressure over my crack…

Somewhere someone laughs, and I suddenly become aware of the room full of people around us. The lights are turned low, and if the buzz of voices are any indication everyone seems to be preoccupied, but most of the faces are still turned in our direction. It’s too dark to make out the expressions though, and I worry anew about potentially putting Daphne in an awkward position.

I bravely try to do the courteous thing. “Brian, shouldn’t we-“

Brian nuzzles my neck, and his hands, curling mine under my ass on the back of my legs, remind me awkward positions aren’t necessarily a bad thing. I silently apologize to Daphne and set etiquette aside at the insistence of my dick. 

No one has complained yet, or asked to join, so either they don’t care, or can’t see enough of what we’re doing to cause a stir, or they _can_ follow our every move and think it’s totally hot. Brian, of course, will be offended that I can even consider we are not the focus of the entire room since we’re hot and beautiful, especially him. By default everyone, gay or straight, is turned on just from watching us, and that includes the women.

It was clear from the moment we arrived Brian was having fun. We entered the apartment, our fingers loosely intertwined, and me breathless and hard because of it. As could be expected, every eye turned in our direction, and the noise died down just long enough for Brian’s self-satisfied smirk to widen. I couldn’t help smiling myself, not because of the attention we were drawing, but in relief. I took one hell of chance bringing Brian and his unstable ego to a party of college kids. I was afraid his young subjects would fail to recognize the Greatness in their midst, and not pay Sex God Kinney the homage he expected. I should have known better. Brian might be over thirty, _barely_ , but he is still breathtakingly beautiful, and I’m clearly not the only one that thinks so.

Yes, Brian is vain, and arrogant, and I have no doubt a big part of him enjoying himself is due to being amongst people his junior, reaffirming he is their eye candy for the evening regardless of his date of birth. He is still young… still gorgeous… and still so insecure when it comes to believing I’ll _always_ think he is hot and beautiful...

_I lose my security_  
When you’re not around  
No one can trust but to shelter me  
All the walls come falling down 

Prada and Armani and French facial cream can only do so much to hide his anxiousness at growing older. He hasn't said much on the subject, apart from his normal sarcasm and pretended haughtiness, but with Brian it is what he doesn't say that I've accepted I need to listen to. 

Like how _not_ to pick a trick… 

It was dark on the catwalk above Babylon’s dance floor - or rather, as dark as it can be with colored lights twirling overhead. I was still feeling guilty after having kissed the guy at the hetero hop Daphne insisted I go to, even though Brian never brought it up again.

“So many men, so little body hair.” Gentle lips moved down the side of my face.

“See any you like?” I didn’t want to take anyone home with us, but I duly followed his lead… my penitence…

“Him,” Brian said without hesitation, pointing downwards.

The trick was predictably tall and dark and hot and I didn’t want him. “I guess.” I wanted Brian… _Only_ Brian... Kissing me and fucking me and ‘telling’ me everything was alright… _we’re_ alright…

“You?” My lack of enthusiasm didn’t go unnoticed, and as always there was curiosity in his voice, interest in whom I could possibly select that would be a better fuck than _Brian Kinney’s_ choice.

“Him.” I randomly picked one of the guys that had caught my eye earlier, and added as an afterthought, hoping it would make Brian lose focus and we would go home alone because we couldn’t agree on a trick. “Kinda young.”

“Let’s go for it.” He grabbed my hand and I had to hold onto the railing to pull him back to me, and not tumble down the stairs after him. There was blood in the water, in more ways than one. We both had something to prove to the other. He needed a _young_ trick to show me he was still everything a fucking college kid was, and more. I needed to be alone with him, just the two of us, to convince him he, and he _only_ , was everything I wanted… and more… Christ, so much more…

I only realized afterwards what I saw in Brian’s eyes in the split second between me dismissing his choice, and instead wanting someone _young_ … How he tensed before heading for the stairs to go get my _kinda young_ trick… The defiant set to his jaw... 

I could kick myself. Talk about rubbing it in. First I kissed the fucking virgin ass _kid, someone fucking closer to my own age_ , and a couple of nights later I not only brought up the very sensitive subject again, but actually ‘proved’ to him my taste was now for _young_ meat, by dismissing our usual choice of ass.

I lift my head from Brian’s shoulder to look at him. He lets go of my one hand and tilts my chin upwards, his mouth twitching into a secret smile before he kisses me. My body goes limb, and I lean heavily against him as his tongue finds mine in a lazy search. 

He's more confident about us now, especially after visiting me in LA, and I’m clinging to every touch and gesture and smile and kiss which might indicate he is actually starting to believe I'm his. No sports equipment, Paganini wannabes, pink T-shirts (fuck, I actually wore that?), losing vital body parts, or walking down Hollywood Boulevard are going to keep us apart. Definitely not fucking age and growing old.

I know one of the broadest paths to his heart is being the guardian of his ego, something which his _family_ is forever giving us shit about. Him for being conceited, and me for indulging him. What they don’t get is I know him, better than anyone else, and in _spite_ of his narcissism and in a way _because_ of it, I love him more than I do the smell of paint fumes. 

If me telling him a thousand times a day how hot and beautiful I think he is, is how he hears, and believe, me say ‘I love you, and I am fucking _coming_ and _staying_ ,’ then I’ll tell him a million times every hour. It’s not as if I lie when I say he is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He was four years ago, he still is, he forever will be.

I slide my arm under his shirt… around his waist… white silk hiding my fingers inside the waistband of his jeans… closer… breathing his name... 

The tip of his nose is warm against mine, his lips wet, the outline of his dick hard in my hand. He bucks slightly at my unexpected touch and I cup him more firmly. The soft sound of air rushing over his lips as he quickly draws breath sends shivers down my spine. “God, you're beautiful.” 

“Of course,” he smirks, but I know him too well. I know how much it means hearing me confirm out loud I still (also) worship what he so stubbornly believes defines who he is... _out loud_ … 

_Shit_... Talk about irony. 

In spite of having patent rights on the language of kissing and fucking and _touching_ , Brian does, _like me_ , also need actual words to accept my love for him. It’s just not the conventional ones. ‘I love you’ doesn’t relay the message as clear as ‘hot’ and ‘want to suck your cock’ and ‘beautiful’ and ‘fuck me’ do.

_… Love him in spite of… because of…_

Every day, in a million different ways, he says ‘I love you,’ and for now it is enough… enough for me to speak his language, and wait while he gets better and better with mine.

"And hot," I say seductively, running my hand on the inside of his leg. He makes that small groan-growl noise of his that makes my hair and dick stand on end. "Hotter than anyone." With Brian there is no such thing as being too heavy-handed with the compliments. 

His arms drop to my hips, shielding me a bit from the hungry eyes as I stroke his balls through his jeans. It's not like either of us mind a public display, he'd fuck me right here if it wasn't Daphne's party. It may not be easy to faze her, but this isn’t a crowd of drooling fags at Babylon.

"Uh huh," he mumbles encouragingly in my neck, and I know he isn't just referring to my hand teasingly fumbling with the zip of his jeans.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Coming with me to the party.”

“I haven't-“

“-come yet,” I interrupt fearlessly, biting Brian lightly on the chin. “I know.”

“What have I told you about-“

“-finishing each other's sentences?” 

“I hate when couples do that.”

In feigned shock I stop and gape at Brian. “Surely I didn't just hear you say 'couples.'”

“…About me coming.”

I laugh, and let Brian pull me back into his arms. “Let me guess, you want to leave.”

Brian looks at me quizzically. “Why? We've just got here.”

I stare at him. After all that, groping and grabbing and turning each other on to the point that I was worried I was going to come right here in my jeans if he grabbed my ass one more time, he wants to stay? Something's up, and it's more than just our dicks. I am, however, sure that whatever it is, it does have everything to do with Brian’s cock up my ass, and I can’t wait.

“It's not like we have to be at the loft for me to fuck you.” 

“What do you mean?” I ask cautiously. I love Brian, and that includes his warped sense of humor, but sometimes he is the only one enjoying his jokes, while I'm at the butt-end. Pun intended. If Brian doesn't want to go home, that leaves only fucking at our current location. Daph's apartment is really not big enough to keep her 30 odd guests oblivious to a Brian Kinney fucking session.

“I mean,” Brian says, looking smug. “You still owe me.”

“Brian-“

“Three public places, remember? I still have one left.”

“What are you talking about? You said yesterday morning-“

“-That I will come to Daphne's party even though you jerked me off and the bet was for rimming me. But the agreement was rimming, and three public places. I've only fucked you in two.”

“But Woody's-“

“God, I hate repeating myself,” he says with the patronizing, exasperated voice he always uses with Michael. “We've been through this at the steam room." 

I grab a nipple and twist hard.

"Fuck!" He jerks away from me, but I'm holding him as close as he is holding me, and he only manages to move a couple of inches. "What the fuck was that for?"

"A little reminder that I'm not Michael." I take the abused nipple in my mouth, through the black material, and suck.

"Fuck, that's hot," he says with a gasp, and pushes his upper body towards me.

"You were saying?" I turn my attention to the other nipple. 

"Fucking is my cock… _aaahhh_ … cock in your ass, not my fingers or me blowing you.”

I lift my head and frown suspiciously at eyes shining way too brightly for my comfort. “What do you want?”

“You,” he says, kissing me deep when I open my mouth to immediately protest. His tongue tastes even better than how he smells, and I suck on it greedily while trying to get my thoughts together to continue my argument, but Brian is clearly better prepared than I am.

"Your ass-” 

Fuck, I love when he licks below my ear like this. 

“-In the coatroom." 

I rub my thumbs over the two wet spots on his shirt. 

" _Fuck_ , don’t do-… I didn’t say stop.” 

His skin is warm under my palms, and a tremor runs through his stomach muscles when I bunch the wife beater half-way up his chest. “And then?”

“You can show me-“ …Kiss on my temple... “-How you fuck a virgin ass,” he murmurs with a nonchalance that would fool anyone else, and I freeze momentarily.

In the background the song changes, laughter and voices rise around me and for the first time I really realize where we are. I mean, _really_ realize… _coatroom_ … 

Brian and I stare at each other, my hand stroking the side of his face, his running over my waist and thighs, under my T-shirt. For a long moment neither of us say anything. At some stage we start moving to the music again and I push a leg between his. He bends his knees slightly, fitting my cock perfectly alongside the bulge at the front of his jeans.

His eyes... It's too dark in the room for me to be completely sure why something feels off, and rising slightly on my tiptoes I kiss him. The movement also rubs our dicks together and the desire and need flood through me. He meets my tongue thrust for thrust, his fingers digging into my hips, but the grip is different from earlier. Almost desper-... _Fuck. Surely not._

I tilt my head to the side and match the pressure of his hands on my thighs when I cup his face. He groans when I push harder, deeper, but he lets me tongue-fuck him… willingly answering my unspoken question…

I slow down little by little, until only our lips are brushing over each other. My fingers are clenched in his hair and he winches, but doesn’t let me go. “Brian, it was nothing- “

“No kissing other people on the mouth."

I didn't see that one coming… His voice would be light enough for me to believe we were still kidding around, if it wasn’t for his eyes. He doesn’t look away… doesn’t try to hide or disguise anything… 

_Sound of your voice says_  
‘You’re not alone’  
Give me the strength I need  
To bring me home 

I didn't expect him to agree to my ‘requests’ that night. Never in a thousand years did I think ‘I don't believe in love’ Kinney would be willing to share his life in a way that normal people would say definitely makes me a bit more than a trick. One may even say 'partner,' if it wasn't for the 'fuck who I want' part of his side of the rules… conditions… agreements… guidelines… _whatever the fuck_ of our non-relationship.

But in that moment I was happy, and I was in love, and I knew he was too. At the time I was still listening to what it is he _didn’t_ say, and the message was clearer than I am sure Brian realized. His eyes and his hands and his cock and his mouth betrayed the words he insistently kept fighting _us_ with every time he touched me.

We stared at each other, very much like we are doing now, and then he threw his arm around my shoulder and kissed me off my feet.

We barely made it in to the backroom before he had me facing the wall, my jeans halfway down my hips and him sheathed and his cock rubbing along my crack. He was breathing hard, but made no move to fuck me and I squirmed impatiently. Gripping my thighs, he whispered he didn't want to hurt me, but I had no time for fingers up my ass. I shook my head, took his hand off my hips, kissed his knuckles and held our tangled fingers over my heart, yanking on his arm… saying ‘yes’ in _his_ language…

He fucked my brains out, and we came loud enough to draw a crowd. Wet and sticky with cum I turned around, not bothering to pull up my jeans. I grabbed and kissed him, my hands roaming his body as his were roaming mine. We reached one another's dicks at the same time, rubbed and stroked together and I was starting to see white lights when I heard the condom wrapper tear. He spun me face-first to the wall, and spreading my legs, I pushed back against the head of his dick, hard, forcing him to slip inside.

That might have been our shortest fuck, and one of the hottest.

I sucked and licked him on the way home until he was hard again, and was halfway out of my jeans already before the elevator arrived. I couldn't get enough, neither could he and he was sheathed and lubed and inside me, up against the back of the elevator, before it started moving upwards. He was thrusting, and I was going out of my mind with need... needing more of him... needing all of him... needing to have him fuck me so hard and so many times he wouldn’t have anything left to push up a fucking trick's ass. 

We reached the loft, he pulled out before either of us came and I groaned my annoyance. He laughed… that laugh of his which makes me want to cry at the beauty of it… held his jeans up with one hand, grabbed me with the other, and kissed me all the way to the loft door.

Once inside... We left a trail of clothes, which I couldn’t remember getting out of, from the door to the couch. Brian's hands were all over my ass and my hole, and he was tongue-fucking what little breath I had left right out of me.

Kicking my legs apart he bent me forwards over the back of the couch, and buried his cock inside me with a grunt and a shudder that echoed through my body. I met his every thrust, wanting him as deep as he could possibly be.

We didn't last long. Probably a good thing, otherwise I would really not have been able to sit for a week. As it was I had difficulty walking the next day, even though the rest of the night, when we didn’t cuddle and talk, was slow and gentle and... _making love_ , fuck what Brian says.

I know his every way of fucking, and I hear what every part of him is saying when he asks me to put the condom on him… to turn on my back where he can see me eyes when I come with him… 

There is a difference between making love and fucking. Brian’s body knows both languages very well, and doesn’t have a problem disclosing his secrets.

Brian lets me go and I blink, pulled from my musings to a reality which has all the promise to add even better memories. I didn't think it is possible to get harder than when we were still sort of dancing, but remembering that night... He was so much more than just 'hot' and 'beautiful'…

Brian nips at my under lip, runs his hands over my thighs, and digs his fingers into the back of my legs. I laugh, take the not-so subtle hint and press closer to him. His tongue wraps around mine and I sigh blissfully when the grip on my legs shifts to perfectly fit my ass into his palms.

The pressure of his grip increases…he is kneading me slow and hard… urgent…telling me he needs to get off _now_ …

My heart is directing blood to my already painfully stiff cock at a dizzying pace, and I tighten the hold I have on his neck. I need all the help I can get to ensure I give a believable performance of being able to stand on my own feet.

It will be extremely humiliating to collapse in the middle of my best friend's birthday party because my partner makes me so hot my dick is the only muscle in my body with any strength left, and the only part of me still working… threatening to work _too_ well…

My only consolation for being on the brink of turning into an incoherent idiot, barely able to moan anything beyond 'fuck me,' is being overly aware that he isn't doing any better. His knees might be steadier than mine (they had fucking better be), but that's what he gets for insisting to always be in control. For some reason he is prolonging this torture, which wins him the responsibility of keeping me from sinking to my knees and yanking his fly open and swallowing his cock down my throat right here…it must be fucking killing him since there is no mistaking my message…

I'm becoming more light-headed and hornier by the minute. Daph's got some Babylon-quality thumpa-thumpa beat blaring, and the deep vibration is making my dick salivate with the images of fucking and sucking and licking and overall just devouring each other in the backroom.

I know how much he wants me, even through two layers of thick denim my cock feels how hard he is as he insistently rubs us together.

God, I need to taste him so bad... suck his dick until he is begging as much as I am... hold me on his lap...

"I want you to fuck my mouth-" I'm practically climbing up his body, able to move again at the thought of beating him at his own game. He wants to play dirty? I'll give him dirty... "-tongue-fuck me... jerk me off-" 

He makes a choking sound, sucks at the hollow of my throat hard enough to leave a mark, and I struggle for breath when his arms crush me against him... 

"-Finger-fuck me until I come again-" I lick the outer shell of his ear, dropping my voice to a low whisper. He is shivering, but still not fucking moving. For some reason he seems really set on staying rooted to the spot for a very, very long time. Unacceptably long. I turn up the heat. "Flip me onto my stomach... on my knees... hips up... fuck me... slam into my ass... come with me..." I over-emphasize each word with a kiss and a lick along his jaw.

Magic words, magic mouth… they work every time.

I stumble behind Brian when he yanks my arm, heading for my old room… tonight ‘the coatroom.’

_Brian PoV_

I lunge at Justin, he jumps behind Daphne and she, smart girl, has the good sense to move away very quickly. I kiss him, hard, as hard as my cock is, as hard as I’m rubbing up against him. He laughs, the breathless laugh that never fails to make me hard… hard _er_ …that holds the guarantee of so much more to come... again... and again... Fingers weaved with mine… _around_ mine… I don’t ever want to let go, never the fuck again. I have no intention of letting him out of my sight again. Should he ever want to return to Hollywood… I will not stand in the way of him fulfilling the dream he has worked so fucking hard for.

That leaves only one acceptable option. Justin and me and hot guys in LA… Justin and me and hot parties in LA… Justin and me in LA... Justin in my arms every night... I can live with that.

He touches my face, and my stomach muscles knot, like they do when I push my cock inside him, deeper until… I turn my head, kiss his palm and bite carefully down his wrist. I stare at him, watch the beautiful blue eyes grow wide, his mouth fall open, and I choke. All the air in my lungs just fucking disappears, as if I have taken a punch in the gut, only this time… this… _Christ_ , he’s beautiful. White teeth an even row as his surprise turns into a smile and a grin and laughter. And it isn’t meant for anyone but me.

I know why, for a moment, he goes rigid, then almost collapses in my arms, and ends up giggling in my neck. I suck air like he can suck my cock, my fingers tense with wanting to fuck him when they dig into the back of his legs, just below his ass, almost lifting him off the ground to have more of him press up against me.

There is touching, and _touching_. Either includes groping and kissing and always the need to keep him close, irrespective of where we are. There is touching while having lunch at the diner with the whole of gay Pittsburgh stroking themselves while watching (including Theodore and Emmett, excluding the Novotny family). There is touching at Woody’s… Babylon… and there is touching at dinner with the family present and speechless. I love doing that, making them all shut the fuck up about me and Justin.

But there is also the occasional not touching in public. Fortunately he knows me well enough not to be put off by the forced disapproving frown I still throw his way every now and again when he sneaks under my arm.

Yes, the entire fucking Liberty Avenue referring to him as my ‘partner,’ and referring to us as a ‘couple,’ at times still makes my feet itch to exit the diner in the fastest way possible without becoming the latest object of gossip, and he knows this.

He also knows it takes a squeeze of my fingers, a hand on my leg, and I will fucking give him whatever he wants. Usually more than he wants. Usually I end up in his neck, sucking and biting and licking until he gives me what _I_ want… My tongue in his mouth, and if we have time, a visit to the nearest men’s room or alleyway or backroom or a protein lunch or/and snack at Kinnetik.

And then there is _touching_ , which I keep for us, and the loft, away from prying eyes. When _I_ touch him, just me. Not ‘Brian, ‘stud of Liberty Avenue,’ not ‘Brian, CEO of Kinnetik,’ not ‘Brian, I don’t believe in love…’ When we laugh and play and I forget to hide.

Tonight’s touch… well, it’s a party after all, and parties are all about fun and fucking… and _touching_ …

I pull his head back by his hair, and bite his nose. His sharp intake of breath makes me laugh. If he wasn’t already hard, that nip would have done it. His face is set in determined concentration as he struggles to get out of my grip, but I’ve got both his hands, my palms on the back of his, gripped firmly without much effort.

He does have some counter measures though, and I bite down hard not to embarrass myself with the words and sounds collecting at the back of my throat. I can feel him smirk against my skin, slowing down, making sure he licks every bit of me from shoulder to shoulder. 

Fucking killing me…

In spite of loving to fuck him in public, naked and shivering for all to see, it is _as_ hot to feel his hands and tongue under my shirt, not visible to other eyes, just us.

In my mind’s eye I can already see him, jeans halfway down his hips... Fuck, he always looks so hot with only half his ass showing, just enough for him to spread and me to push into him and his cock far enough out of his briefs (if he is wearing any) for him to jerk himself off. I've lost count off the number of times I fucked him like that in the backroom…. and various men’s rooms…

Justin murmurs something but it’s not ‘fuck me’ so I don’t pay attention. The hollow of his throat is beautiful in its familiarity under my tongue and I grip his ass with our combined hands. The feel and thought of him groping his own ass is fucking hot and this time I don’t try to keep silent. He falls against me, his head dropping onto my shoulder as his hands succumb to mine.

Fuuuuck… _so_ hot…

I want to fuck him. I need to fuck him. I know he's thinking what I'm thinking, already feeling my dick find its place inside him, his ass positioned high in the air to take all of me. I tighten our grip, fingers digging hard into the back of his legs. 

He looks up, and his smile rushes through me, the sunshine in it heating me with a warmth I didn't believe existed. Turns out I might have been wrong about believing in fucking only, but I'm beginning to think it's really not such a bad thing to have been wrong about. I sure as fuck am glad I was wrong about Justin. He came... and eventually stayed.

My cock is hard, so hard I’m having difficulty moving. Justin grabbing my balls and pushing his hand between my legs doesn't help. The corners of his mouth turn up higher, and I can't help but to grin back, tilting his chin upwards to lick at his lips before pushing my tongue deep inside his mouth.

It's been years since I've kissed anyone but Justin, and I can't remember anymore what it was like with any of the others. I just know none of the kissing and tongue fucking and lip bruising I did before Justin's 'you don't kiss anyone on the lips but me' … _’statement,_ ’ by lack of a better word, meant anything. 

The truth of the matter is I didn't mind agreeing to his 'request,' even though it felt much more like an ultimatum at the time and the ‘me’ I've cultivated for so many years wanted to rebel immediately.

Why I didn't resist.... 

By that time I have been kissing tricks less and less, but I haven't realized it until I watched Justin kiss a trick on the dance floor below the catwalk I was standing on. It was the night just after the heart-to-heart Debbie had forced on me (can it still be called heart-to-heart if you supposedly don’t have a heart?). There I was, high in elevation only, a rare occurrence, scanning the crowd for Justin. I finally spotted him swaying and dancing and laughing and obviously promising the trick he was with the night of his life. He looked like he was enjoying himself. For some reason I didn't like the thought and it was made worse since I don't think he saw me, he didn't know I was watching and had no reason to pretend. He really was having a good time, without me. 

I assume guys were cruising me, they always do, but I didn’t notice anyone but him. I couldn't tear my eyes away, my brain soaked with memories of _us_. He kissed the trick again and the next moment I heard myself telling the guy to fuck off, which he did grumbling, and suddenly it was just me and the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever had looking at me. I had been thinking about nothing else all day except what will I say to him when I finally manage to scrape enough courage together to be as brave as he is, and open my mouth and the fuck say something that would prevent him from ever leaving the loft again.

His “what do you want?” was breathless, nervous, excited, and held what I have since come to recognize as a timbre of hope.

_“We’re queers, and if we’re together it’s because we wanna be, not because there is locks on our doors… …and when I come home, I’ll also be doing exactly what I wanna do, coming home to you.”_ It may not have been everything he wanted to hear, but I was fucking proud of myself for that little speech.

He didn’t miss a beat and replied with his own list. Some of it was more acceptable than others, such as the infamous "I don't want you to kiss anyone on the lips but me." I didn't mind agreeing, it didn't bother me that my spit would never again mix with someone else's but his. There was, and still is, no one else I want to kiss. Of much more consequence was the agreement that his lips were mine, and mine alone.

I love kissing, I always have, but until I met Justin it was always functional, a means to an end, a way to signal whoever the lucky guy of the moment was he had been chosen. I never kissed anyone if I wasn't going to fuck them a couple of minutes later, except Michael... Christ, talk about functional kissing... I never kissed a trick after I've fucked him, there was no reason to. We were done.

Until Justin. Justin was as insatiable for me as I was for him, and not just that first night, and not any night since, and not just for fucking. Michael walked in on us the next morning, tongue fucking like a couple of horny teenagers. Of course Justin was a horny teenager and me... I'm always young, I'm always beautiful, and I'm always, _always_ horny. Justin was like a ragdoll in my arms, standing because I had told him to, but with his arms hanging by his side, doing nothing to help me put his pants back on, his body leaning heavily against me to keep upright. Leaning, and anchored to my tongue which he couldn't stop sucking on. By then we have been kissing forever, we never stopped after I first tasted him, and with bruised lips and swollen tongues our mouths continued to rather take the abuse than break apart.

Like now.

I'm not 'kissing' him. The way other people kiss involves a beginning and an end, a point where my lips meet his, stay for too short a time and leave again. Unacceptable. I've got no intention of letting him or his mouth or any part of him leave me again. There is only staying, my tongue in his mouth, his lips sucked between my teeth, no taste of a him or a me, only _us_. Our kissing doesn't have a beginning or an end. Not anymore. He has finally convinced me there is an 'us' to believe in, a partnership to want, there might be more to me than just fucking, and working fucking hard to ensure his every smile, every kiss, every touch is meant for me only is worth much more than what I'm 'giving up.'

There are the odd times when other guys fuck him while I watch, but since I’m the only one kissing him, it is always only me truly inside him. No latex around our tongues like there are around their dicks, preventing anyone from knowing him as intimately as I do... more intimately than fucking because there are no barriers between our tongues. Better than words, no misunderstandings, no secrets, nowhere to hide.

Which, I guess, is why I reacted the way I did, the morning after he kissed the fucking college kid. His mouth was mine by his own decree, and it caught me by surprise how much it bothered me to think of his tongue dancing with anyone's but mine.

***

His old room is empty, which, courtesy-wise, is a very good thing. I need to get off so badly, right _now_ , I would have fucked Justin outside in the hall. I don't mind the breeders watching, and I know he wouldn't either, but Daphne might. As it is she is going to have to explain to her guests why the noises emitting from the room down the hall are louder than the music playing. If ever I was going to fuck Justin's brains out... he's _mine_... only mine... fuck coatrooms and _fuck_ people his own age.

I pull him inside, slam the door and lock it. Thoughtful of Daphne to have left the key. He's in my arms the moment I turn around, his hands bunching my shirt as he rubs up against me. Gently I loosen the clenching fingers, and straighten the material he has been trying so hard to permanently wrinkle. He makes a sound between a gasp and a laugh and slips the silk off my shoulders. Carefully this time... maybe a bit over-cautious... but I've got better things to do at the moment than punish him for his disrespect. He drapes the shirt neatly over a chair, and I push him backwards towards the bed and watches as he scrambles onto it. Frantic fingers are fighting with his shirt buttons, and I have to smile. He looks every bit like the enthusiastic seventeen-year old he was so many nights ago. My heart kicks into some strange beat, and I swallow, my throat suddenly dry.

He is, and will always be, the most beautiful man I have ever seen, and I love him. If wanting to do anything to keep that smile, to see it turn into _my_ smile when it's just me and him... no matter where we are, it's always _just_ me and him... then I love him.

He knows... of course he does. He also knows he will never hear me say it, and he has accepted it… It might have taken me years, but _I_ have accepted that _he_ has accepted not hearing the words... _really_ accepted it. He won't leave again because I can only reply by holding him and kissing him and carrying him in my arms and fucking him.

I make my way towards the bed, push him on his back, unzip his jeans and yank them down. He kicks them free from his feet, and I'm naked and crushing him under me before they hit the ground. My hands are tangled in his hair and I know I'm pulling too hard, but I can't... fuck, I need him... need to feel him suck my tongue... need him to grip my hips as hard as I'm gripping his head... need to feel his cock wet and wanting against my stomach... 

He is frantic under me, spreading his legs wide and wrapping them around my thighs, his hips pushing up in spite of my full weight pinning him on the bed. Oh fuck, it drives me crazy when he is like this, a bundle of energy under my hands… around my dick… in my mouth… moving with me… _accepting_ everything I have to give him, such as it is.

I whisper his name, at least I'm able to do that much, and I stare as the beautiful face become even more beautiful... because of _me_ … because of _me_ saying just one word. It takes my breath away to realize again how what I _do_ have to give him can make him this happy.

I bury my head in his neck. As dry as my throat was seconds ago, as much do I suddenly have to swallow repeatedly. This time it's _his_ hands gripping the back of my head. The pressure is different from 'fuck me,' and I wait, knowing his every sound and move... He pulls my head tight against him, mumbling my name over and over with his lips in my hair, his tongue and teeth running familiar paths around and over my ear. I can hardly breathe. What little I do manage to get into my lungs is filled with _him_... shampoo, mine, which he has been secretly using again... aftershave, mine again, the bitter taste of it strong on my tongue when I lick and suck what skin I'm able to reach without having to break out of his grip. His head leans heavily against mine as he strokes my hair. Jesus, I love when he does that...

He shifts under me, his dick demanding attention as it leaves a wet trail across my stomach. I'm going to fuck him, make no mistake, but I'm going to take care of his very impatient cock first. I make my way down his body, licking and sucking and kissing his chest and nipples, but I don’t spend nearly as much time as usual. I want his cock, deep in my throat where I'm still having difficulty swallowing.

I take him hard with no warning, all of him filling my mouth on the first suck. He cries out and arches, pushing his hips up, as I expected. I let him do it once before firmly placing a hand on his abdomen, at the same time going down on him again. He's not going to last long, I don't want him to. I want him to lose control into my mouth, into me. His stomach muscles clench under my palm, and I suck him hard once more, dragging my tongue along his cock and slit on the upstroke.

He cries my name, I shiver, close my eyes and let only the feel of him coming down my throat touch my senses. Shit, he tastes good... I can do this all day long if fucking his ass wasn’t even better.

I don't stop curling my tongue around his cock, feeling him soften inside my mouth. By now I'm  
covered in goose bumps and I'm suddenly overwhelmed by the pressure building in my own dick. I release him slowly, ensuring I got every drop of him. Daphne will be glad, she won't have to try and get cum stains of her sheets.

I let his dick go with one last flick around its head and he rolls onto his side, pulling his knees towards his chest with a whimpering sound. Good. I didn't just bring him here for a spectacular blowjob. We need to talk. As much as I still hate the idea of starting a sentence with "I feel...", I have also started to see the necessity of it. The subjects and frequency though, are still carefully chosen, and it’s a prerequisite that Justin is completely winded when his participation is required.

We’re not here at the party, in the _coatroom_ , just because I think Daphne is a nice girl and I will keep my side of my bet with Justin - which I never intended to win. Not only did I thoroughly enjoy fucking him in the public venues of my choice, it also gave me the most perfect opportunity to...

A firm hand close around my, by now, _very_ wet cock, and the unexpected sensation forces me into a ball almost as tightly rolled up as he was. Looks like Daphne will have some cleaning to do after all.

"This okay?" he asks as I thrust into his touch, squirming as he starts to jerk me off in earnest. I'm not going to last long either. 

"You kinda blew me away... but I think I can manage a hand job."

I laugh and kiss him slowly, unlike what his hand is doing with my cock. "It's fine," I manage to get out between his tongue pushing into my mouth and my hips pumping my dick into his fist in short strokes. 

It’s true a good orgasm, if Justin Taylor is involved, does make your toes curl. And they remain curled until you have come over his hand holding you, still stroking you until your hips go still and you pull him against you, push a leg between his, and feel your body gluing to his as your cum mix.

"Shit." I wipe my hand over my face, my brain struggling through the haze that exploded in it.

He crawls deeper into my arms, rubbing us together and I am sure he'd fallen asleep when the 1500 SAT score kicks in and he quietly asks, “Brian, why here?”

I pull him closer instead of pushing him away like I used to do, but my mind automatically throws the switch for avoiding whatever the fuck his question is loaded with. “We can fuck on the floor if you want.” I'm not quick enough to remind myself this fabulous situation is of my own doing.

“You know what I mean. Fucking at Debbie’s with everyone oblivious downstairs I get. Your office was the first place we fucked in public, and though it was ridiculously romantic even for you, I get it. But why my old bedroom?”

I roll off Justin, onto my back, and stare at the ceiling while fidgeting for my cigarettes in my jeans on the floor. Yes, I'm stalling... I _don't_ want to be here... I _want_ to be here... have to know... 

“Why did you kiss him?” Thank whatever the fuck for his mouth falling open in surprise, and I pull him in for a deep kiss. Let's wait just a little longer. Besides, he can't look like that, begging to be tongue-fucked and expect me to ignore it. I kiss the breath out of him, and finally let him go when he presses hard against my chest. He's giggling and struggling to get air while attempting to wave a 'stop!' finger at me. Of course I'm going to fucking suck on it.

He gives up, and falls into my arms, laughing. I hold him close, his head tucked under my chin. Good. I prefer he doesn't look at me for this. I prefer not doing this at all, but _fuck_... "Why did you kiss him?"

He goes still against me, and I rest my cheek on the blond hair, closing my eyes. I'm having difficulty breathing... trouble swallowing... I'm too young to have a fucking heart attack. He had better fucking say someth-

He takes a deep breath, apparently having realized I am serious. I can hear his mind racing, but I've got no idea what to expect from his answer.

“He reminded me of myself when I met you," he replies slowly, idly drawing pictures on my stomach with butterfly fingers. "That’s when I knew I was in love with you, when you kissed me for the first time." He tries to break free and look at me, but my plans don’t include being scrutinized by too sharp eyes, and I refuse to let him go. 

"Brian, come on." 

No one's coming (again), not yet. Fuck if I don't need to know... I'm not fucking going through this again. We're not leaving this fucking _coat_ room tonight before I say we do.

He gets the message, but I can feel his reluctance when he melts into me again. The pressure from his fingers on my lower abdomen increases.

"It was his first fuck." Hesitating.

I run my hands up and down his back, up and down his arms, in the way he loves, telling him it's alright. I'm not angry, and I won't be. I just... I need to know.

"I... he reminded me of myself, on my first night with you," he repeats, more confidently this time. "I remembered how scared I was, but then you kissed me, and..." He takes another deep breath and I will my fingers to unclench in his hair and stop attempting to pull them out.

"Fucking him was everything our first night _wasn't_. With him it was just fucking, and I..." He rubs his eyes, irritated. "Fuck, Brian, I don't know! He was standing there, afterwards, and I thought how I would have felt if you never kissed me, and only fucked me... _Jesus_..." His voice drops, and his breath is warm over my throat when he turns to bury his face in my neck, an arm flung over my chest and other shoulder, clinging to me. I don't mind. I've come to like clinging. I've come to like a lot of things.

"I felt like shit, okay? I wanted his first time to be something good, like mine was, but it felt as if I had fucked up his first fuck. So I thought if I kissed him... I didn’t realize it would mean as much to him, as you kissing me did to me. I never thought he'd find me at the diner-“ He falls silent abruptly.

“What about the diner?” My voice is sharper than I want it to be.

He groans my name, frustrated, but we're not stopping now. 

“Shit… He came looking for me the next day, stopped by the diner. I took him outside, told him it was just a fuck. I wasn't nearly as _'nice'_ about it as you were with me. At least you had a _good_ reason, _’I don’t believe in love, I believe in fucking._ ’" Sarcasm dripping from his every word. I don't say anything, just pull him closer, if that is at all possible. It’s not just him clinging anymore.

"I told him he was pathetic and fags will do anything to get their dicks sucked, and he was yesterday’s fuck and should disappear out of my life. He kept insisting the kiss meant something.” 

Justin falls silent again, and I become aware of muffled sounds of music and laughter. Oh yes, that's right... we're at a party... 

“Did it?” I don't want to know. Daphne’s taste in music isn’t too bad…

“Yes.”

_What... the... fuck?_

Cold dread floods my mind and it's my turn to be at a loss for words. I close my mouth firmly, not able to think of anything to say. How the fuck do I keep getting myself into this shit?

_Above the clouds spin back and saw_  
Your fear can’t fence me  
When I’m scared I lock the door  
Keep the darkness out  
‘till the sun shines again 

I'm too focused on turning my gut right-side up again to resist when he shrugs out of my arms. His palm is warm against my cheek, his thumb gentle, but I refuse to look at him. _Fabulous_ ceiling. Again I don't expect the sudden movement, and he grips and tilts my chin before I have time to find my balance again... Big blue eyes... He knows... He fucking _knows_ this is fucking ripping me apart.

“It reminded me I can’t kiss anyone and not think of you and wish it was your tongue, your mouth… _us_." He bites his lip, and I'm once more vividly reminded of a head-held-high, innocent, beautiful seventeen-year old shaking in his Nikes, but fuck if he was going to let me see his fear and uncertainty.

And memories of a year later, the same not-so-innocent-anymore, but even more beautiful teenager, high on a catwalk at Babylon with me, listlessly picking a trick... turning to me, hopeful... taking the chance of me mocking him, to make fun of... to make fun of him taking a chance on an 'us' even though I, at the time, refused to consider such a thing existed.

“ _Or we could go home…_ ” Eyes, pleading, and fighting to not let me see how much he wanted it to just be the two of us.

I reach out; run my fingers over his temple, down the side of his face, down his throat to the back of his neck. He doesn't resist when I pull him down to rest my forehead against his. I nudge his nose with mine, and I can see him swallow… a couple of times, like I had to earlier.

_Sound of your voice says_  
‘You’re not alone’  
Give me the strength I need  
To bring me home 

"I'm yours, Brian, _just_ yours. I don't want to share you with anyone, and... and I don't want to be shared. You're the only one I kiss… only one I _want_ to kiss."

_Whenever you’re near I lose my fear_  
I know with you that I can’t go wrong  
The darkness keeps waiting  
Finally found a better way  
You shine the light to guide me safely home 

I take a deep breath, inhaling my shampoo and aftershave on him... _Mine_. "Let’s go home." I know he will remember. "Just the two of us."

His head jerks up, mouth hanging open again. "What about the bet?" he asks hesitantly. I can see the hope in his eyes, the dazzling smile threatening to break through.

I roll him over, and tugging on his hand, get up. Holding him close to me, I kiss him. His mouth is greedy against mine, his tongue in a frenzy. The rest of him is like a ragdoll in my arms, standing because I’m telling him to, but with his arms hanging by his side, doing nothing to help me put his jeans back on. His body is leaning heavily against me to keep upright. Leaning, and anchored to my tongue which he can't stop sucking on. By now we have been kissing forever... we never stopped after I first tasted him... with bruised lips and swollen tongues our mouths will continue to rather take the abuse than break apart.

It’s time to move on, to leave ghosts in the coatroom where they belong, and go home. Just the two of us.

"Fuck the bet."

**_FIN_ **


End file.
